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RIENZI 

THE    LAST   OF  THE 
ROMAN  TRIBUNES 


The  fierce  Rienzi  led  on  each  assault. 


RIENZI 

THE    LAST   OF   THE 
ROMAN   TRIBUNES 


By 

EDWARD   BULWERI  LYTTON 


Illustrated  by 
L.   W.    ZEIGLER    , 


Charles  Scribner's  Sons 
New  York  1902 


COPYRIGHT,  igoa,  BY 
CHARLES  SCRIBNER'S  SONS. 


ALESSANDRO     MANZONI 

AS 
TO  THE  GENIUS  OF  THE  PLACE 

%ce  <DcDicatcb 
THESE   FRUITS 

GATHERED    ON 

THE    SOIL    OF    ITALIAN    FICTION 


LONDON,  Dec.  i,   1835. 


Then  turn  we  to  her  latest  Tribune's  name, 

From  her  ten  thousand  tyrants  turn  to  thee, 

Redeemer  of  dark  centuries  of  shame — 

The  friend  of  Petrarch — hope  of  Italy — 

Rienzi,  last  of  Romans !     While  the  tree 

Of  Freedom's  wither'd  trunk  puts  forth  a  leaf, 

Even  for  thy  tomb  a  garland  let  it  be — 

The  Forum's  champion,  and  the  People's  chief — 

Her  new-born  Numa  thou  ! 

CHILDE  HAROLD,  canto  iv.  stanza  114. 

Amidst  the  indulgence  of  enthusiasm  and  eloquence  Petrarch,  Italy, 
and  Europe  were  astonished  by  a  revolution,  which  realized  for  a 
moment  his  most  splendid  visions. — GIBBON,  chap.  Ixx. 


PREFACE 

TO   THE   FIRST   EDITION   OF   RIENZI 


I  began  this  tale  two  years  ago  at  Rome.     On  re- 
moving to  Naples,  I  threw  it  aside  for  "  The  Last 
Days  of  Pompeii,"  which  required  more  than  "  Ri- 
enzi "   the   advantage   of   residence   within   reach    of 
the  scenes  described.    The  fate  of  the  Roman  Tribune 
continued,  however,  to  haunt  and  impress  me,   and 
some  time  after  "  Pompeii "  was  published,  I  renewed 
my  earlier  undertaking.     I  regarded  the  completion 
of  these  volumes,  indeed,  as  a  kind  of  duty; — for  hav- 
ing had  occasion  to  read  the  original  authorities  from 
which  modern  historians  have  drawn  their  accounts 
of  the  life  of  Rienzi,  I  was  led  to  believe  that  a  very 
remarkable  man  had  been  superficially  judged,  and 
a  very   important   period   crudely   examined.*     And 
this  belief  was  sufficiently  strong  to  induce  me  at  first 
to  meditate  a  more  serious  work  upon  the  life  and 
times  of  Rienzi.  f     Various  reasons  concurred  against 
this  project — and  I  renounced  the  biography  to  com- 
mence the  fiction.    I  have  still,  however,  adhered,  with 
a  greater  fidelity  than  is  customary  in  Romance,  to  all 
the  leading  events  of  the  public  life  of  the  Roman 
Tribune;    and  the  Reader  will  perhaps  find  in  these 
pages  a  more  full  and  detailed  account  of  the  rise  and 
fall  of  Rienzi,  than  in  any  English  work  of  which  I 
am  aware.     I  have,  it  is  true,  taken  a  view  of  his 
character  different  in  some  respects  from  that  of  Gib- 

*  See  Appendix,  Nos.  I.  and  II. 

I 1  have  adopted  the  termination  of  Rienzi  instead  of  Rienso, 
as  being  more  familiar  to  the  general  reader. — But  the  latter 
is  perhaps  the  more  accurate  reading,  since  the  name  was  a 
popular  corruption  from  Lorenzo. 


vi  PREFACE 

bon  or  Sismondi.  But  it  is  a  view,  in  all  its  main 
features,  which  !•  believe  (and  I  think  I  could  prove) 
myself  to  be  warranted  in  taking,  not  less  by  the 
facts  of  History  than  the  laws  of  Fiction.  In  the 
meanwhile,  as  I  have  given  the  facts  from  which  I 
have  drawn  my  interpretation  of  the  principal  agent, 
the  reader  has  sufficient  data  for  his  own  judgment. 
In  the  picture  of  the  Roman  Populace,  as  in  that  of 
the  Roman  Nobles  of  the  fourteenth  century,  I  fol- 
low literally  the  descriptions  left  to  us; — they  are  not 
flattering,  but  they  are  faithful,  likenesses. 

Preserving  generally  the  real  chronology  of  Ri- 
enzi's  life,  the  plot  of  this  work  extends  over  a  space 
of  some  years,  and  embraces  the  variety  of  characters 
necessary  to  a  true  delineation  of  events.  The  story, 
therefore,  cannot  have  precisely  that  order  of  interest 
found  in  fictions  strictly  and  genuinely  dramatic,  in 
which  (to  my  judgment  at  least)  the  time  ought  to 
be  as  limited  as  possible,  and  the  characters  as  few; 
— no  new  character  of  importance  to  the  catastrophe 
being  admissible  towards  the  end  of  the  work.  If  I 
may  use  the  word  Epic  in  its  most  modest  and  un- 
assuming acceptation,  this  Fiction,  in  short,  though 
indulging  in  dramatic  situations,  belongs,  as  a  whole, 
rather  to  the  Epic  than  the  Dramatic  school. 

I  cannot  conclude  without  rendering  the  tribute  of 
my  praise  and  homage  to  the  versatile  and  gifted  Au- 
thor of  the  beautiful  Tragedy  of  Rienzi.  Considering 
that  our  hero  be  the  same — considering  that  we  had 
the  same  materials  from  which  to  choose  our  several 
stories — I  trust  I  shall  be  found  to  have  little,  if  at 
all,  trespassed  upon  ground  previously  occupied. 
With  the  single  exception  of  a  love-intrigue  between 
a  relative  of  Rienzi  and  one  of  the  antagonist  party, 
which  makes  the  plot  of  Miss  Mitford's  Tragedy,  and 
is  little  more  than  an  episode  in  my  Romance,  having 
slight  effect  on  the  conduct  and  none  on  the  fate 
of  the  hero,  I  am  not  aware  of  any  resemblance  be- 
tween the  two  works;  and  even  this  coincidence  I 
could  easily  have  removed,  had  I  deemed  it  the  least 


PREFACE  vii 

advisable: — but  it  would  be  almost  discreditable  if  I 
had  nothing  that  resembled  a  performance  possessing 
so  much  it  were  an  honour  to  imitate. 

In  fact,  the  prodigal  materials  of  the  story — the 
rich  and  exuberant  complexities  of  Rienzi's  character 
— joined  to  the  advantage  possessed  by  the  Novelist 
of  embracing  all  that  the  Dramatist  must  reject  * — 
are  sufficient  to  prevent  Dramatist  and  Novelist  from 
interfering  with  each  other. 

LONDON,  December  i,  1835. 

*  Thus  the  slender  space  permitted  to  the  Dramatist  does 
not  allow  Miss  Mitford  to  be  very  faithful  to  facts ;  to  dis- 
tinguish between  Rienzi's  earlier  and  his  later  period  of  power; 
or  to  detail  the  true,  but  somewhat  intricate  causes  of  his  rise, 
his  splendour,  and  his  fall. 


PREFACE 

TO   THE   EDITION  OF   1848 


From  the  time  of  its  first  appearance,  "  RIENZI  " 
has  had  the  good  fortune  to  rank  high  amongst  my 
most  popular  works — though  its  interest  is  rather 
drawn  from  a  faithful  narration  of  historical  facts, 
than  from  the  inventions  of  fancy.  And  the  success 
of  this  experiment  confirms  me  in  my  belief,  that  the 
true  mode  of  employing  history  in  the  service  of 
romance,  is  to  study  diligently  the  materials  as  his- 
tory; conform  to  such  views  of  the  facts  as  the  Au- 
thor would  adopt,  if  he  related  them  in  the  dry  char- 
acter of  historian;  and  obtain  that  warmer  interest 
which  fiction  bestows,  by  tracing  the  causes  of  the 
facts  in  the  characters  and  emotions  of  the  personages 
of  the  time.  The  events  of  his  work  are  thus  already 
shaped  to  his  hand — the  characters  already  created — - 
what  remains  for  him,  is  the  inner,  not  outer,  history 
of  man — the  chronicle  of  the  human  heart;  and  it  is 
by  this  that  he  introduces  a  new  harmony  between 
character  and  event,  and  adds  the  completer  solution 
of  what  is  actual  and  true,  by  those  speculations  of 
what  is  natural  and  probable,  which  are  out  of  the 
province  of  history,  but  belong  especially  to  the  philos- 
ophy of  romance.  And — if  it  be  permitted  the  tale- 
teller to  come  reverently  for  instruction  in  his  art  to 
the  mightiest  teacher  of  all,  who,  whether  in  the  page 
or  on  the  scene,  would  give  to  airy  fancies  the  breath 
and  the  form  of  life, — such,  we  may  observe,  is  the  les- 
son the  humblest  craftsman  in  historical  romance  may 
glean  from  the  Historical  Plays  of  Shakespeare.  Neces- 
sarily, Shakespeare  consulted  history  according  to  the 


x  PREFACE 

imperfect  lights,  and  from  the  popular  authorities  of  his 
age;  and  I  do  not  say,  therefore,  that  as  an  historian 
we  can  rely  upon  Shakespeare  as  correct.  But  to  that 
in  which  he  believed  he  rigidly  adhered;  nor  did  he 
seek,  as  lesser  artists  (such  as  Victor  Hugo  and  his 
disciples)  seek  now,  to  turn  perforce  the  Historical  into 
the  Poetical,  but  leaving  history  as  he  found  it,  to 
call  forth  from  its  arid  prose  the  flower  of  the  latent 
poem.  Nay,  even  in  the  more  imaginative  plays 
which  he  has  founded  upon  novels  and  legends  popu- 
lar in  his  time,  it  is  curious  and  instructive  to  see  how 
little  he  has  altered  the  original  ground-work — taking 
for  granted  the  main  materials  of  the  story,  and  re- 
serving all  his  matchless  resources  of  wisdom  and  in- 
vention, to  illustrate  from  mental  analysis,  the  crea- 
tions whose  outline  he  was  content  to  borrow.  He 
receives,  as  a  literal  fact  not  to  be  altered,  the  some- 
what incredible  asset  tion  of  the  novelist,  that  the  pure 
and  delicate  and  high-born  Venetian  loves  the  swarthy 
Moor — and  that  Eomeo  fresh  from  his  "  woes  for 
Rosaline,"  becomes  suddenly  enamoured  of  Juliet:  he 
found  the  Improbable,  and  employed  his  art  to  make 
it  truthful. 

That  "  RIENZI  "  should  have  attracted  peculiar  at- 
tention in  Italy,  is  of  course  to  be  attributed  to  the 
choice  of  the  subject  rather  than  to  the  skill  of  the 
Author.  It  has  been  translated  into  the  Italian  lan- 
guage by  eminent  writers;  and  the  authorities  for 
the  new  view  of  Rienzi's  times  and  character  which 
the  Author  deemed  himself  warranted  to  take,  have 
been  compared  with  his  text  by  careful  critics  and 
illustrious  scholars,  in  those  states  in  which  the  work 
has  been  permitted  to  circulate.*  I  may  say,  I  trust 
without  unworthy  pride,  that  the  result  has  confirmed 
the  accuracy  of  delineations  which  English  readers, 
relying  only  on  the  brilliant  but  disparaging  account 
in  Gibbon,  deemed  too  favourable;  and  has  tended  to 
restore  the  great  Tribune  to  his  long  forgotten  claims 

*  In  the  Papal  States,  I  believe,  it  was,  neither  prudently 
nor  effectually  proscribed. 


PREFACE  xi 

to  the  love  and  reverence  of  the  Italian  land.  Nor, 
if  I  may  trust  to  the  assurances  that  have  reached  me 
from  many  now  engaged  in  the  aim  of  political  re- 
generation, has  the  effect  of  that  revival  of  the  hon- 
ours due  to  a  national  hero,  leading  to  the  ennobling 
study  of  great  examples,  been  wholly  without  its  in- 
fluence upon  the  rising  generation  of  Italian  youth, 
and  thereby  upon  those  stirring  events  which  have 
recently  drawn  the  eyes  of  Europe  to  the  men  and  the 
lands  beyond  the  Alps. 

In  preparing  for  the  Press  this  edition  of  a  work 
illustrative  of  the  exertions  of  a  Roman,  in  advance 
of  his  time,  for  the  political  freedom  of  his  country, 
and  of  those  struggles  between  contending  principles, 
of  which  Italy  was  the  most  stirring  field  in  the  Mid- 
dle Ages,  it  is  not  out  of  place  or  season  to  add  a 
few  sober  words,  whether  as  a  student  of  the  Italian 
past,  or  as  an  observer,  with  some  experience  of  the 
social  elements  of  Italy  as  it  now  exists,  upon  the 
state  of  affairs  in  that  country. 

It  is  nothing  new  to  see  the  Papal  Church  in  the 
capacity  of  a  popular  reformer,  and  in  contra-position 
to  the  despotic  potentates  of  the  several  states,  as  well 
as  to  the  German  Emperor,  who  nominally  inherits 
the  sceptre  of  the  Caesars.  Such  was  its  common  char- 
acter under  its  more  illustrious  Pontiffs;  and  the  old 
Republics  of  Italy  grew  up  under  the  shadow  of  the 
Papal  throne,  harbouring  ever  two  factions — the  one 
for  the  Emperor,  the  one  for  the  Pope — the  latter  the 
more  naturally  allied  to  Italian  independence.  On  the 
modern  stage,  we  almost  see  the  repetition  of  many 
an  ancient  drama.  But  the  past  should  teach  us  to 
doubt  the  continuous  and  stedfast  progress  of  any 
single  line  of  policy  under  a  principality  so  consti- 
tuted as  that  of  the  Papal  Church — a  principality  in 
which  no  race  can  be  perpetuated,  in  which  no  ob- 
jects can  be  permanent;  in  which  the  successor  is 
chosen  by  a  select  ecclesiastical  synod,  under  a  variety 
of  foreign  as  well  as  of  national  influences:  in  which 
the  chief  usually  ascends  the  throne  at  an  age  that  ill 


Xll 


PREFACE 


adapts  his  mind  to  the  idea  of  human  progress,  and 
the  active  direction  of  mundane  affairs; — a  principality 
in  which  the  peculiar  sanctity  that  wraps  the  person  of 
the  Sovereign  exonerates  him  from  the  healthful  lia- 
bilities of  a  power  purely  temporal,  and  directly  ac- 
countable to  Man.  A  reforming  Pope  is  a  lucky  acci- 
dent, and  dull  indeed  must  be  the  brain  which  believes 
in  the  possibility  of  a  long  succession  of  reforming 
Popes,  or  which  can  regard  as  other  than  precarious 
and  unstable  the  discordant  combination  of  a  consti- 
tutional government  with  an  infallible  head. 

It  is  as  true  as  it  is  trite  that  political  freedom  is  not 
the  growth  of  a  day — it  is  not  a  flower  without  a 
stalk,  and  it  must  gradually  develop  itself  amidst  the 
unfolding  leaves  of  kindred  institutions. 

In  one  respect,  the  Austrian  domination,  fairly  con- 
sidered, has  been  beneficial  to  the  States  over  which 
it  has  been  directly  exercised,  and  may  be  even  said 
to  have  unconsciously  schooled -them  to  the  capacity 
for  freedom.  In  those  States  the  personal  rights 
which  depend  on  impartial  and  incorrupt  administra- 
tion of  the  law,  are  infinitely  more  secure  than  in  most 
of  the  Courts  of  Italy.  Bribery,  which  shamefully  pre- 
dominates in  the  judicature  of  certain  Principalities,  is 
as  unknown  in  the  juridical  courts  of  Austrian  Italy 
as  in  England.  The  Emperor  himself  is  often  involved 
in  legal  disputes  with  a  subject,  and  justice  is  as  free 
and  as  firm  for  the  humblest  suitor,  as  if  his  antagonist 
were  his  equal.  Austria,  indeed,  but  holds  together 
the  motley  and  inharmonious  members  of  its  vast 
domain  on  either  side  the  Alps,  by  a  general  character 
of  paternal  mildness  and  forbearance  in  all  that  great 
circle  of  good  government  which  lies  without  the  one 
principle  of  constitutional  liberty.  It  asks  but  of 
its  subjects  to  submit  to  be  well  governed — without 
agitating  the  question  "  how  and  by  what  means  that 
government  is  carried  on."  For  every  man  except 
the  politician,  the  innovator,  Austria  is  no  harsh  step- 
mother. But  it  is  obviously  clear  that  the  better  in 
other  respects  the  administration  of  a  state,  it  does 


PREFACE  xiii 

but  foster  the  more  the  desire  for  that  political  secur- 
ity, which  is  only  found  in  constitutional  freedom:  the 
reverence  paid  to  personal  rights  but  begets  the  pas- 
sion for  political;  and  under  a  mild  despotism  are 
already  half  matured  the  germs  of  a  popular  constitu- 
tion. But  it  is  still  a  grave  question  whether  Italy  is 
ripe  for  self-government — and  whether,  were  it  pos- 
sible that  the  Austrian  domination  could  be  shaken 
off — the  very  passions  so  excited,  the  very  bloodshed 
so  poured  forth,  would  not  ultimately  place  the 
larger  portion  of  Italy  under  auspices  less  favour- 
able to  the  sure  growth  of  freedom,  than  those 
which  silently  brighten  under  the  sway  of  the  Ger- 
man Caesar. 

The  two  kingdoms,  at  the  opposite  extremes  of 
Italy,  to  which  circumstance  and  nature  seem  to  as- 
sign the  main  ascendancy,  are  Naples  and  Sardinia. 
Looking  to  the  former,  it  is  impossible  to  discover 
on  the  face  of  the  earth  a  country  more  adapted  for 
commercial  prosperity.  Nature  formed  it  as  the  gar- 
den of  Europe,  and  the  mart  of  the  Mediterranean. 
Its  soil  and  climate  could  unite  the  products  of  the 
East  with  those  of  the  Western  hemisphere.  The  rich 
island  of  Sicily  should  be  the  great  corn  granary  of  the 
modern  nations  as  it  was  of  the  ancient;  the  figs, 
the  olives,  the  oranges  of  both  the  Sicilies,  under  skil- 
ful cultivation,  should  equal  the  produce  of  Spain  and 
the  Orient;  and  the  harbours  of  the  kingdom  (the 
keys  to  three-quarters  of  the  globe)  should  be  crowded 
with  the  sails  and  busy  with  the  life  of  commerce. 
But,  in  the  character  of  its  population,  Naples  has 
been  invariably  in  the  rear  of  Italian  progress;  it 
caught  but  partial  inspiration  from  the  free  Republics, 
or  even  the  wise  Tyrannies,  of  the  Middle  Ages;  the 
theatre  of  frequent  revolutions  without  fruit;  and  all 
rational  enthusiasm  created  by  that  insurrection,  which 
has  lately  bestowed  on  Naples  the  boon  of  a  repre- 
sentative system,  cannot  but  be  tempered  by  the  con- 
viction that  of  all  the  States  in  Italy,  this  is  the  one 
which  least  warrants  the  belief  of  permanence  to  po- 


xiv  PREFACE 

litical  freedom,  or  of  capacity  to  retain  with  vigour 
what  may  be  seized  by  passion.* 

Far  otherwise  is  it  with  Sardinia.  Many  years  since, 
the  writer  of  these  pages  ventured  to  predict  that  the 
time  must  come  when  Sardinia  would  lead  the  van 
of  Italian  civilisation,  and  take  proud  place  amongst 
the  greater  nations  of  Europe.  In  the  great  portion 
of  this  population  there  is  visible  the  new  blood  of 
a  young  race;  it  is  not,  as  with  other  Italian  states, 
a  worn-out  stock;  you  do  not  see  there  a  people 
fallen,  proud  of  the  past,  and  lazy  amidst  ruins,  but 
a  people  rising,  practical,  industrious,  active;  there, 
in  a  word,  is  an  eager  youth  to  be  formed  to  mature 
development,  not  a  decrepit  age  to  be  restored  to 
bloom  and  muscle.  Progress  is  the  great  character- 
istic of  the  Sardinian  state.  Leave  it  for  five  years; 
visit  it  again,  and  you  behold  improvement.  When 
you  enter  the  kingdom  and  find,  by  the  very  skirts 
of  its  admirable  roads,  a  raised  footpath  for  the  pas- 
sengers and  travellers  from  town  to  town,  you  become 
suddenly  aware  that  you  are  in  a  land  where  close  at- 
tention to  the  humbler  classes  is  within  the  duties  of  a 
government.  As  you  pass  on  from  the  more  purely 

*  If  the  Electoral  Chamber  in  the  new  Neapolitan  Constitu- 
tion give  a  fair  share  of  members  to  the  Island  of  Sicily,  it 
will  be  rich  in  the  inevitable  elements  of  discord,  and  nothing 
save  a  wisdom  and  moderation,  which  cannot  soberly  be  an- 
ticipated, can  prevent  the  ultimate  separation  of  the  island 
from  the  dominion  of  Naples.  Nature  has  set  the  ocean  be- 
tween the  two  countries — but  differences  in  character,  and 
degree  and  quality  of  civilisation — national  jealousies,  histori- 
cal memories,  have  trebled  the  space  of  the  seas  that  roll 
between  them. — More  easy  to  unite  under  one  free  Parliament, 
Spain  with  Flanders ;  or  re-annex  to  England  its  old  domains 
of  Aquitaine  and  Normandy — than  to  unite  in  one  Council 
Chamber  truly  popular,  the  passions,  interests,  and  prejudices 
of  Sicily  and  Naples. — Time  will  show.  And  now,  in  May, 
1849 — Time  has  already  shown  the  impracticability  of  the  first 
scheme  proposed  for  cordial  union  between  Naples  and  Sicily, 
and  has  rendered  it  utterly  impossible,  by  mutual  recollections 
of  hatred,  bequeathed  by  a  civil  war  of  singular  barbarism, 
that  Naples  should  permanently  retain  Sicily  by  any  other  hold 
than  the  brute  force  of  conquest. 


PREFACE  xv 

Italian  part  of  the  population, — from  the  Genoese 
country  into  that  of  Piedmont, — the  difference  be- 
tween a  new  people  and  an  old,  on  which  I  have  dwelt, 
becomes  visible  in  the  improved  cultivation  of  the  soil, 
the  better  habitations  of  the  labourer,  the  neater  as- 
pect of  the  towns,  the  greater  activity  in  the  thor- 
oughfares. To  the  extraordinary  virtues  of  the  King, 
as  King,  justice  is  scarcely  done,  whether  in  England 
or  abroad.  Certainly,  despite  his  recent  concessions, 
Charles  Albert  is  not  and  cannot  be  at  heart,  much 
of  a  constitutional  reformer;  and  his  strong  religious 
tendencies,  which,  perhaps,  unjustly,  have  procured 
him  in  philosophical  quarters  the  character  of  a  bigot, 
may  link  him  more  than  his  political,  with  the  cause 
of  the  Father  of  his  Church.  But  he  is  nobly  and 
pre-eminently  national,  careful  of  the  prosperity  and 
jealous  of  the  honour  of  his  own  state,  while  con- 
scientiously desirous  of  the  independence  of  Italy. 
His  attention  to  business,  is  indefatigable.  Nothing 
escapes  his  vigilance.  Over  all  departments  of  the 
kingdom  is  the  eye  of  a  man  ever  anxious  to  improve. 
Already  the  silk  manufacturers  of  Sardinia  almost  rival 
those  of  Lyons:  in  their  own  departments  the  trades- 
men of  Turin  exhibit  an  artistic  elegance  and  elabo- 
rate finish,  scarcely  exceeded  in  the  wares  of  London 
and  Paris.  The  King's  internal  regulations  are  ad- 
mirable; his  laws,  administered  with  the  most  im- 
partial justice — his  forts  and  defences  are  in  that  order, 
without  which,  at  least  on  the  Continent,  no  land  is 
safe — his  army  is  the  most  perfect  in  Italy.  His  wise 
genius  extends  itself  to  the  elegant  as  to  the  useful 
arts — an  encouragement  that  shames  England,  and 
even  France,  is  bestowed  upon  the  School  for  Painters, 
which  has  become  one  of  the  ornaments  of  his  illus- 
trious reign.  The  character  of  the  main  part  of  the 
population,  and  the  geographical  position  of  his  coun- 
try, assist  the  monarch  and  must  force  on  himself,  or 
his  successors,  in  the  career  of  improvement  so  sig- 
nally begun.  In  the  character  of  the  people,  the 
vigour  of  the  Northman  ennobles  the  ardour  and 


xvi  PREFACE 

fancy  of  the  West.  In  the  position  of  the  country,  the 
public  mind  is  brought  into  constant  communication 
with  the  'new  ideas  in  the  free  lands  of  Europe.  Civili- 
sation sets  in  direct  currents  towards  the  streets  and 
marts  of  Turin.  Whatever  the  result  of  the  present 
crisis  in  Italy,  no  power  and  no  chance  which  states- 
men can  predict,  can  preclude  Sardinia  from  ulti- 
mately heading  all  that  is  best  in  Italy.  The  King 
may  improve  his  present  position,  or  peculiar  preju- 
dices, inseparable  perhaps  from  the  heritage  of  abso- 
lute monarchy,  and  which  the  raw  and  rude  councils 
of  an  Electoral  Chamber,  newly  called  into  life,  must 
often  irritate  and  alarm,  may  check  his  own  progress 
towards  the  master  throne  of  the  Ausonian  land.  But 
the  people  themselves,  sooner  or  later  will  do  the 
work  of  the  King.  And  in  now  looking  round  Italy 
for  a  race  worthy  of  Rienzi,  and  able  to  accomplish 
his  proud  dreams,  I  see  but  one  for  which  the  time 
is  ripe  or  ripening,  and  I  place  the  hopes  of  Italy  in 
the  men  of  Piedmont  and  Sardinia. 

LONDON,  'February   14,  1848. 


CONTENTS 

BOOK   I 
THE  TIME,  THE  PLACE,  AND  THE  MEN 

CHAP.  PAGE 

I.     The  Brothers I 

II.  An  Historical  Survey — Not  to  be  Passed  Over, 
Except  by  Those  who  Dislike  to  Understand 
what  they  Read 16 

III.  The  Brawl 22 

IV.  An  Adventure 34 

V.     The  Description  of  a  Conspirator,  and  the  Dawn 

of  the  Conspiracy 52 

VI.     Irene  in  the  Palace  of  Adrian  di  Castello       .        .  66 

VII.     Upon  Love  and  Lovers 72 

VIII.     The  Enthusiastic  Man  Judged  by  the  Discreet  Man  75 
IX.     "  When  the  People  Saw  this  Picture  Every  One 

Marvelled " 81 

X.     A  Rough  Spirit  Raised,  which  may  Hereafter  Rend 

the  Wizard  ' .        .86 

XI.     Nina  di  Raselli 92 

XII.     The   Strange    Adventures   that   Befell   Walter   de 

Montreal                                                                  .  102 


BOOK    II 
THE  REVOLUTION 

I.     The  Knight  of  Provence,  and  his  Proposal    .        .112 
II.     The  Interview,  and  the  Doubt 129 


xviii  CONTENTS 

CHAP.  PAGE 

III.  The  Situation  of  a  Popular  Patrician  in  Times  of 

Popular  Discontent — Scene  of  the  Lateran         .  135 

IV.  The  Ambitious  Citizen,  and  the  Ambitious  Soldier  157 

V.    The   Procession    of   the    Barons — The    Beginning 

of  the  End 172 

VI.     The  Conspirator  Becomes  the  Magistrate      .        .176 
VII.    Looking  After  the  Halter  when  the  Mare  is  Stolen  181 
VIII.     The  Attack— The  Retreat— The  Election— And  the 

Adhesion         .        .        .        .-.,..        .  183 


BOOK   III 
THE  FREEDOM  WITHOUT  LAW 

I.     The  Return  of  Walter  de  Montreal  to  his  Fortress  194 
II.     The    Life   of   Love   and    War — The    Messenger   of 

Peace — The  Joust     •.  T       .       -.        .        .  200 

III.  The  Conversation  between  the  Roman  and  the  Pro- 
venc.al — Adeline's  History — The  Moonlit  Sea — 
The  Lute  and  the  Song  .  .  .  .  .  .  223 


BOOK   IV 
THE  TRIUMPH  AND  THE  POMP 

I.    The  Boy  Angelo — The  Dream  of  Nina  Fulfilled    .  240 
II.    The  Blessing  of  a  Councillor  whose  Interests  and 
Heart  are  Our  Own — The  Straws  Thrown  Up- 
ward— Do  they  Portend  a  Storm?      .        .        .  257 

III.  The  Actor  Unmasked 274 

IV.  The  Enemy's  Camp 281 

V.    The  Night  and  its  Incidents 287 

VI.    The  Celebrated  Citation 299 

VII.    The  Festival 304 


CONTENTS  xix 

BOOK   V 
THE  CRISIS 

CHAP.  PAGE 

I.     The  Judgment  of  the  Tribune 312 

II.  The  Flight  .        ."  .      ".       .        .        .        .  %     .323 

III.  The  Battle  .        .        .        .        .        .        .        .        .329 

IV.  The  Hollowness  of  the  Base    .....  342 
V.  The  Rottenness  of  the  Edifice  .....  350 

VI.     The  Fall  of  the  Temple    .        .        .        ....        .358 

VII.     The  Successors  of  an  Unsuccessful   Revolution — 
Who  is  to  Blame — The  Forsaken  One  or  the 
Forsakers? .  365 


BOOK   VI 
THE  PLAGUE 

I.     The  Retreat  of  the  Lover 371 

II.  The  Seeker     .........  375 

III.  The  Flowers  Amidst  the  Tombs 389 

IV.  We  Obtain  what  we  Seek  and  Know  it  Not      .        .  399 
V.  The  Error               .        .       ..•."•.'.        .        .405 


BOOK   VII 
THE  PRISON 

I.     Avignon — The  Two  Pages — The  Stranger  Beauty  419 
II.     The  Character  of  a  Warrior-Priest — An  Interview 

— The  Intrigue  and  Counter-Intrigue  of  Courts  430 

III.  Holy   Men  —  Sagacious   Deliberations  —  Just   Re- 

solves— And  Sordid  Motives  to  All    .        .        .  438 

IV.  The  Lady  and  the  Page    .        .        .        .  ^     .        .445 
V.     The  Inmate  of  the  Tower          .....  448 

VI.     The   Scent  does    Not  Lie  —  The    Priest   and  the 

Soldier    ,  .....  457 


xx  CONTENTS 

CHAP.  PAGE 

VII.     Vaucluse  and  its  Genius  Loci — Old  Acquaintance 

Renewed          ....<*...  460 
VIII.     The   Crowd— The  Trial— The  Verdict— The   Sol- 
dier and  the  Page 46? 

IX.     Albornoz  and  Nina 471 


BOOK   VIII 
THE  GRAND  COMPANY 

I.     The  Encampment  .        •       -        •        ...        .  480 

II.    Adrian  Once  More  the  Guest  of  Montreal        .        .  493 
III.     Faithful  and  Ill-Fated  Love — The  Aspirations  Sur- 
vive the  Affections   .        .        ...        .        .  501 


BOOK   IX 

THE  RETURN 
I.     The  Triumphal  Entrance  .        .        ...        .  513 

II.     The  Masquerade          .•       .        .        .        .        .        .519 

III.  Adrian's  Adventures  at  Palestrina    .        .        .        .  535 

IV.  The  Position  of  the  Senator — The  Work  of  Years 

— The  Rewards  of  Ambition          ....  542 

V.     The  Biter  Bit 553 

VI.    The  Events  Gather  to  the  End 557 


BOOK   X 
THE  LION  OF  BASALT 

I.    The  Conjunction  of  Hostile  Planets  in  the  House 

of  Death 563 

II.     Montreal   at   Rome  —  His     Reception   of    Angelo 

Villani .566 

III.  'Montreal's   Banquet 572 

IV.  The  Sentence  of  Walter  de  Montreal      .        .        .581 


CONTENTS  xxi 

CHAP.  PAGE 

V.     The  Discovery 588 

VI.     The  Suspense -    .        -  594 

VII.     The  Tax 599 

VIII.    The  Threshold  of  the  Event    .        .        .        .        .603 
CHAPTER  THE  LAST: 

The  Close  of  the  Chase 609 


APPENDIX    I 

SOME  REMARKS  ON  THE  LIFE  AND  CHARACTER  OF  RIENZI  623 


APPENDIX    II 

A  WORD  UPON  THE  WORK  BY  PERE  DU  CERCEAU  AND  PERE 
BRUMOY,  ENTITLED  "  CONJURATION  DE  NICOLAS  GA- 
BRINI,  DIT  DE  RlENZI,  TYRAN  DE  ROME  "  .  ."  .  63! 


LIST    OF    ILLUSTRATIONS 


The  fierce  Rienzi  led  on  each  assault     .     .     .     Frontispiece 

Facing 
page 

"For  shame,  my  lord,  for  shame." 44 


Forth  issued  Rienzi,  clad  in  complete  armour    .     .     .     .178 
I  have  fulfilled  my  part — I  claim  yours 476 


RIENZI 

THE   LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES 
BOOK   I 

THE   TIME,    THE   PLACE,   AND    THE  MEN 

"  Fuda  sua  gioventudine  nutricatp  di  latte  di  eloquenza; 
buono  grammatico,  megliore  rettorico,  autorista  buono  .  .  . 
Oh,  come  spesso  diceva,  '  Dove  sono  quest!  buoni  Romani? 
Dove'e  loro  somma  giustizia?  Poterommi  trovare  in  tempo 
che  questi  fioriscano?'  Era  beH'omo  .  .  .  Accadde  che  uno 
suo  frate  fu  ucciso,  e  non  ne  fu  fatta  vendetta  di  sua  morte; 
non  lo  poteo  aiutare;  pensa  lungo  mano  vendicare  '1  sangue 
di  suo  frate;  pensa  lunga  mano  dirizzare  la  cittate  di  Roma 
male  guidata." — Vita  di  Cola  di  Rienzi.  Ed.  1828.  Forli. 

"  From  his  youth  he  was  nourished  with  the  milk  of  elo- 
quence; a  good  grammarian,  a  better  rhetorician,  well  versed 
in  the  writings  of  authors  .  .  .  Oh,  how  often  would  he  say, 
'  Where  are  those  good  Romans?  Where  is  their  supreme 
justice?  Shall  I  ever  behold  such  times  as  those  in  which 
they  flourished? '  He  was  a  handsome  man  ...  It  hap- 
pened that  a  brother  of  his  was  slain,  and  no  retribution  was 
made  for  his  death:  he  could  not  help  him;  long  did  he 
ponder  how  to  avenge  his  brother's  blood;  long  did  he 
ponder  how  to  direct  the  misguided  state  of  Rome." — Life  of 
Cola  di  Rienzi. 

CHAPTER   I 

THE    BROTHERS 

The  celebrated  name  which  forms  the  title  to  this 
work  will  sufficiently  apprise  the  reader  that  it  is  in 
the  earlier  half  of  the  fourteenth  century  that  my  story 
opens. 

It  was  on  a  summer  evening  that  two  youths  might 
be  seen  walking  beside  the  banks  of  the  Tiber,  not  far 
from  that  part  of  its  winding  course  which  sweeps  by 


2  RIENZI 

the  base  of  Mount  Aventine.  The  path  they  had  se- 
lected was  remote  and  tranquil.  It  was  only  at  a  dis- 
tance that  were  seen  the  scattered  and  squalid  houses 
that  bordered  the  river,  from  amidst  which  rose,  dark 
and  frequent,  the  high  roof  and  enormous  towers 
which  marked  the  fortified  mansion  of  some  Roman 
baron.  On  one  side  of  the  river,  behind  the  cottages 
of  the  fishermen,  soared  Mount  Janiculum,  dark  with 
massive  foliage,  from  which  gleamed  at  frequent  inter- 
vals, the  gray  walls  of  many  a  castellated  palace,  and 
the  spires  and  columns  of  a  hundred  churches ;  on  the 
other  side,  the  deserted  Aventine  rose  abrupt  and 
steep,  covered  with  thick  brushwood ;  while,  on  the 
height,  from  concealed  but  numerous  convents,  rolled, 
not  unmusically,  along  the  quiet  landscape  and  the 
rippling  waves,  the  sound  of  the  holy  bell. 

Of  the  young  men  introduced  in  this  scene,  the 
elder,  who  might  have  somewhat  passed  his  twen- 
tieth year,  was  of  a  tall  and  even  commanding 
stature ;  and  there  was  that  in  his  presence  remarkable 
and  almost  noble,  despite  the  homeliness  of  his  garb, 
which  consisted  of  the  long,  loose  gown  and  the  plain 
tunic,  both  of  dark-gray  serge,  which  distinguished,  at 
that  time,  the  dress  of  the  humbler  scholars  who  fre- 
quented the  monastery  for  such  rude  knowledge  as 
then  yielded  a  scanty  return  for  intense  toil.  His 
countenance  was  handsome,  and  would  have  been 
rather  gay  than  thoughtful  in  its  expression,  but  for 
that  vague  and  abstracted  dreaminess  of  eye  whith  so 
usually  denotes  a  propensity  to  reverie  and  contempla- 
tion, and  betrays  that  the  past  or  the  future  is  more 
congenial  to  the  mind  than  the  enjoyment  and  action 
of  the  present  hour. 

The  younger,  who  was  yet  a  boy,  had  nothing  strik- 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES  3 

ing  in  his  appearance  or  countenance,  unless  an  ex- 
pression of  great  sweetness  and  gentleness  could  be 
so  called ;  and  there  was  something  almost  feminine 
in  the  tender  deference  with  which  he  appeared  to 
listen  to  his  companion.  His  dress  was  that  usually 
worn  by  the  humbler  classes,  though  somewhat  neater, 
perhaps,  and  newer;  and  the  fond  vanity  of  a  mother 
might  be  detected  in  the  care  with  which  the  long  and 
silky  ringlets  had  been  smoothed  and  parted  as  they 
escaped  from  his  cap  and  flowed  midway  down  his 
shoulders. 

As  they  thus  sauntered  on,  beside  the  whispering 
reeds  of  the  river,  each  with  his  arm  round  the  form 
of  his  comrade,  there  was  a  grace  in  the  bearing,  in 
the  youth,  and  in  the  evident  affection  of  the  brothers 
— for  such  their  connection — which  elevated  the  lowli- 
ness of  their  apparent  condition. 

"  Dear  brother,"  said  the  elder,  "  I  cannot  express 
to  thee  how  I  enjoy  these  evening  hours.  To  you 
alone  I  feel  as  if  I  were  not  a  mere  visionary  and  idler 
when  I  talk  of  the  uncertain  future,  and  build  up  my 
palaces  of  the  air.  Our  parents  listen  to  me  as  if  I 
were  uttering  fine  things  out  of  a  book;  and  my  dear 
mother,  Heaven  bless  her!  wipes  her  eyes,  and  says, 
'  Hark,  what  a  scholar  he  is ! '  As  for  the  monks,  if 
I  ever  dare  look  from  my  Livy,  and  cry,  '  Thus  should 
Rome  be  again ! '  they  stare,  and  gape,  and  frown,  as 
though  I  had  broached  an  heresy.  But  you,  sweet 
brother,  though  you  share  not  my  studies,  sympathise 
so  kindly  with  all  their  results — you  seem  so  to  ap- 
prove my  wild  schemes,  and  to  encourage  my  ambi- 
tious hopes — that  sometimes  I  forget  our  birth,  our 
fortunes,  and  think  and  dare  as  if  no  blood  save  that 
of  the  Teuton  Emperor  flowed  through  our  veins." 


4  RIENZI 

"  Methinks,  dear  Cola,"  said  the  younger  brother, 
"  that  Nature  played  us  an  unfair  trick — to  you  she 
transmitted  the  royal  soul,  derived  from  our  father's 
parentage ;  and  to  me  only  the  quiet  and  lowly  spirit 
of  my  mother's  humble  lineage." 

"  Nay,"  answered  Cola,  quickly,  "  you  would  then 
have  the  brighter  share, — for  I  should  have  but  the 
Barbarian  origin,  and  you  the  Roman.  Time  was, 
when  to  be  a  simple  Roman  was  to  be  nobler  than  a 
northern  king. — Well,  well,  we  may  live  to  see  great 
changes ! " 

"  I  shall  live  to  see  thee  a  great  man,  and  that  will 
content  me,"  said  the  younger,  smiling  affectionately : 
"  a  great  scholar  all  confess  you  to  be  already :  our 
mother  predicts  your  fortunes  every  time  she  hears  of 
your  welcome  visits  to  the  Colonna." 

"  The  Colonna ! "  said  Cola,  with  a  bitter  smile ; 
"  the  Colonna — the  pedants  ! — They  affect,  dull  souls, 
the  knowledge  of  the  past,  play  the  patron,  and  mis- 
quote Latin  over  their  cups!  They  are  pleased  to 
welcome  me  at  their  board,  because  the  Roman  doc- 
tors call  me  learned,  and  because  Nature  gave  me  a 
wild  wit,  which  to  them  is  pleasanter  than  the  stale 
jests  of  a  hired  buffoon.  Yes,  they  would  advance  my 
fortunes — but  how?  by  some  place  in  the  public  of- 
fices, which  would  fill  a  dishonoured  coffer,  by  wring- 
ing, yet  more  sternly,  the  hard  earned  coins  from  our 
famishing  citizens !  If  there  be  a  vile  thing  in  the 
world,  it  is  a  plebeian,  advanced  by  patricians,  not  for 
the  purpose  of  righting  his  own  order,  but  for  playing 
the  pander  to  the  worst  interests  of  theirs.  He  who 
is  of  the  people  but  makes  himself  a  traitor  to  his  birth, 
if  he  furnishes  the  excuse  for  these  tyrant  hypocrites 
to  lift  up  their  hands  and  cry — '  See  what  liberty  exists 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES  5 

in  Rome,  when  we,  the  patricians,  thus  elevate  a 
plebeian ! '  Did  they  ever  elevate  a  plebeian  if  he 
sympathised  with  plebeians?  No,  brother;  should 
I  be  lifted  above  our  condition,  I  will  be  raised  by 
the  arms  of  my  countrymen,  and  not  upon  their 
necks." 

"  All  I  hope,  is,  Cola,  that  you  will  not,  in  your  zeal 
for  your  fellow-citizens,  forget  how  dear  you  are  to  us. 
No  greatness  could  ever  reconcile  me  to  the  thought 
that  it  brought  you  danger." 

"  And  /  could  laugh  at  all  danger,  if  it  led  to  great- 
ness !  But  greatness — greatness  !  Vain  dream  !  Let 
us  keep  it  for  our  night  sleep.  Enough  of  my  plans ; 
now,  dearest  brother,  of  yours." 

And,  with  the  sanguine  and  cheerful  elasticity  which 
belonged  to  him,  the  young  Cola,  dismissing  all  wilder 
thoughts,  bent  his  mind  to  listen,  and  to  enter  into, 
the  humbler  projects  of  his  brother.  The  new  boat 
and  the  holiday  dress,  and  the  cot  removed  to  a  quarter 
more  secure  from  the  oppression  of  the  barons,  and 
such  distant  pictures  of  love  as  a  dark  eye  and  a  merry 
lip  conjure  up  to  the  vague  sentiments  of  a  boy ; — to 
schemes  and  aspirations  of  which  such  objects  made 
the  limit,  did  the  scholar  listen,  with  a  relaxed  brow 
and  a  tender  smile ;  and  often,  in  later  life,  did  that 
conversation  occur  to  him,  when  he  shrank  from  ask- 
ing his  own  heart  which  ambition  was  the  wiser. 

"  And  then,"  continued  the  younger  brother,  "  by 
degrees  I  might  save  enough  to  purchase  such  a  vessel 
as  that  which  we  now  see,  laden,  doubtless,  with  corn 
and  merchandise,  bringing — oh,  such  a  good  return — 
that  I  could  fill  your  room  with  books,  and  never  hear 
you  complain  that  you  were  not  rich  enough  to  pur- 
chase some  crumbling  old  monkish  manuscript.  Ah, 


6  RIENZI 

that  would  make  me  so  happy !  "  Cola  smiled  as  he 
pressed  his  brother  closer  to  his  breast. 

"  Dear  boy,"  said  he,  "  may  it  rather  be  mine  to 
provide  for  your  wishes!  Yet  methinks  the  masters 
of  yon  vessel  have  no  enviable  possession ;  see  how 
anxiously  the  men  look  round,  and  behind,  and  be- 
fore :  peaceful  traders  though  they  be,  they  fear, 
it  seems,  even  in  this  city  (once  the  emporium  of  the 
civilised  world),  some  pirate  in  pursuit;  and  ere  the 
voyage  be  over,  they  may  find  that  pirate  in  a  Roman 
noble.  Alas,  to  what  are  we  reduced !  " 

The  vessel  thus  referred  to  was  speeding  rapidly 
down  the  river,  and  some  three  or  four  armed  men 
on  deck  were  indeed  intently  surveying  the  quiet 
banks  on  either  side,  as  if  anticipating  a  foe.  The 
bark  soon,  however,  glided  out  of  sight,  and  the  broth- 
ers fell  back  upon  those  themes  which  require  only 
the  future  for  a  text  to  become  attractive  to  the  young. 

At  length,  as  the  evening  darkened,  they  remem- 
bered that  it  was  past  the  usual  hour  in  which  they 
returned  home,  and  they  began  to  retrace  their  steps. 

"  Stay,"  said  Cola,  abruptly,  "  how  talk  has  beguiled 
me !  Father  Uberto  promised  me  a  rare  manuscript, 
which  the  good  friar  confesses  hath  puzzled  the  whole 
convent.  I  was  to  seek  his  cell  for  it  this  evening. 
Tarry  here  a  few  minutes,  it  is  but  half-way  up  the 
Aventine.  I  shall  soon  return." 

"  Can  I  not  accompany  you  ?  " 

"  Nay,"  returned  Cola,  with  considerate  kindness, 
"  you  have  borne  toil  all  the  day,  and  must  be  wearied ; 
my  labours,  of  the  body,  at  least,  have  been  light 
enough.  You  are  delicate,  too,  and  seem  fatigued 
already;  the  rest  will  refresh  you.  I  shall  not  be 
long." 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES  7 

The  boy  acquiesced,  though  he  rather  wished  to 
accompany  his  brother ;  but  he  was  of  a  meek  and 
yielding  temper,  and  seldom  resisted  the  lightest  com- 
mand of  those  he  loved.  He  sat  him  down  on  a  little 
bank  by  the  river-side,  and  the  firm  step  and  towering 
form  of  his  brother  were  soon  hid  from  his  gaze  by 
the  thick  and  melancholy  foliage. 

At  first  he  sat  very  quietly,  enjoying  the  cool  air, 
and  thinking  over  all  the  stories  of  ancient  Rome  that 
his  brother  had  told  him  in  their  walk.  At  length  he 
recollected  that  his  little  sister,  Irene,  had  begged  him 
to  bring  her  home  some  flowers ;  and,  gathering  such 
as  he  could  find  at  hand  (and  many  a  flower  grew, 
wild  and  clustering,  over  that  desolate  spot),  he  again 
seated  himself,  and  began  weaving  them  into  one  of 
those  garlands  for  which  the  southern  peasantry  still 
retain  their  ancient  affection,  and  something  of  their 
classic  skill. 

While  the  boy  was  thus  engaged,  the  tramp  of 
horses  and  the  loud  shouting  of  men  were  heard  at  a 
distance.  They  came  near,  and  nearer. 

"  Some  baron's  procession,  perhaps,  returning  from 
a  feast,"  thought  the  boy.  "  It  will  be  a  pretty  sight 
— their  white  plumes  and  scarlet  mantles !  I  love  to 
see  such  sights,  but  I  will  just  move  out  of  their  way." 

So,  still  mechanically  platting  his  garland,  but  with 
eyes  turned  towards  the  quarter  of  the  expected  pro- 
cession, the  young  Roman  moved  yet  nearer  towards 
the  river. 

Presently  the  train  came  in  view, — a  gallant  com- 
pany, in  truth ;  horsemen  in  front,  riding  two  abreast, 
where  the  path  permitted,  their  steeds  caparisoned  su- 
perbly, their  plumes  waving  gaily,  and  the  gleam  of 
their  corselets  glittering  through  the  shades  of  the 


8  RIENZI 

dusky  twilight.  A  large  and  miscellaneous  crowd,  all 
armed,  some  with  pikes  and  mail,  others  with  less  war- 
like or  worse  fashioned  weapons,  followed  the  cava- 
liers ;  and  high  above  plume  and  pike  floated  the  blood- 
red  banner  of  the  Orsini,  with  the  motto  and  device  (in 
which  was  ostentatiously  displayed  the  Guelfic  badge 
of  the  keys  of  St.  Peter)  wrought  in  burnished  gold. 
A  momentary  fear  crossed  the  boy's  mind,  for  at  that 
time,  and  in  that  city,  a  nobleman  begirt  with  his 
sw.ordsmen  was  more  dreaded  than  a  wild  beast  by 
the  plebeians ;  but  it  was  already  too  late  to  fly — the 
train  were  upon  him. 

"  Ho,  boy !  "  cried  the  leader  of  the  horsemen,  Mar- 
tino  di  Porto,  one  of  the  great  House  of  the  Orsini ; 
"  hast  thou  seen  a  boat  pass  up  the  river  ? — But  thou 
must  have  seen  it — how  long  since  ?  " 

"  I  saw  a  large  boat  about  half  an  hour  ago,"  an- 
swered the  boy,  terrified  by  the  rough  voice  and  im- 
perious bearing  of  the  cavalier. 

"  Sailing  right  a-head,  with  a  green  flag  at  the 
stern?" 

"  The  same,  noble  sir." 

"  On,  then !  we  will  stop  her  course  ere  the  moon 
rise,"  said  the  baron.  "  On ! — let  the  boy  go  with  us, 
lest  he  prove  traitor,  and  alarm  the  Colonna." 

"  An  Orsini,  an  Orsini !  "  shouted  the  multitude ; 
"  on,  on !  "  and,  despite  the  prayers  and  remonstrances 
of  the  boy,  he  was  placed  in  the  thickest  of  the  crowd, 
and  borne,  or  rather  dragged  along  with  the  rest — 
frightened,  breathless,  almost  weeping,  with  his  poor 
little  garland  still  hanging  on  his  arm,  while  a  sling 
was  thrust  into  his  unwilling  hand.  Still  he  felt, 
through  all  his  alarm,  a  kind  of  childish  curiosity  to 
see  the  result  of  the  pursuit. 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES  9 

By  the  loud  and  eager  conversation  of  those  about 
him,  he  learned  that  the  vessel  he  had  seen  contained 
a  supply  of  corn  destined  to  a  fortress  up  the  river 
held  by  the  Colonna,  then  at  deadly  feud  with  the 
Orsini;  and  it  was  the  object  of  the  expedition  in 
which  the  boy  had  been  thus  lucklessly  entrained  to 
intercept  the  provision,  and  divert  it  to  the  garrison  of 
Martino  di  Porto.  This  news  somewhat  increased  his 
consternation,  for  the  boy  belonged  to  a  family  that 
claimed  the  patronage  of  the  Colonna. 

Anxiously  and  tearfully  he  looked  with  every  mo- 
ment up  the  steep  ascent  of  the  Aventine ;  but  his 
guardian,  his  protector,  still  delayed  his  appearance. 

They  had  now  proceeded  some  way,  when  a  wind- 
ing in  the  road  brought  suddenly  before  them  the 
object  of  their  pursuit,  as,  seen  by  the  light  of  the 
earliest  stars,  it  scudded  rapidly  down  the  stream. 

"  Now,  the  Saints  be  blest !  "  quoth  the  chief ;  "  she 
is  ours ! " 

"  Hold ! "  said  a  captain  (a  German)  riding  next  to 
Martino,  in  a  half  whisper ;  "  I  hear  sounds  which  I 
like  not,  by  yonder  trees — hark  !  the  neigh  of  a  horse ! 
— by  my  faith,  too,  there  is  the  gleam  of  a  corselet." 

"  Push  on,  my  masters,"  cried  Martino ;  "  the  heron 
shall  not  balk  the  eagle — push  on !  " 

With  renewed  shouts,  those  on  foot  pushed  forward, 
till,  as  they  had  nearly  gained  the  copse  referred  to 
by  the  German,  a  small  compact  body  of  horsemen, 
armed  cap-a-pie,  dashed  from  amidst  the  trees,  and, 
with  spears  in  their  rests,  charged  into  the  ranks  of 
the  pursuers. 

"  A  Colonna !  a  Colonna  !  "  "  An  Orsini !  an  Or- 
sini !  "  were  shouts  loudly  and  fiercely  interchanged. 
Martino  di  Porto,  a  man  of  great  bulk  and  ferocity, 


io  RIENZI 

and  his  cavaliers,  who  were  chiefly  German  Mercena- 
ries, met  the  encounter  unshaken.  "  Beware  the  bear's 
hug,"  cried  the  Orsini,  as  down  went  his  antagonist, 
rider  and  steed,  before  his  lance. 

The  contest  was  short  and  fierce ;  the  complete 
armour  of  the  horsemen  protected  them  on  either  side 
from  wounds, — not  so  unscathed  fared  the  half-armed 
foot-followers  of  the  Orsini,  as  they  pressed,  each 
pushed  on  by  the  other,  against  the  Colonna.  After 
a  shower  of  stones  and  darts,  which  fell  but  as  hail- 
stones against  the  thick  mail  of  the  horsemen,  they 
closed  in,  and,  by  their  number,  obstructed  the  move- 
ments of  the  steeds,  while  the  spear,  sword,  and  battle- 
axe  of  their  opponents  made  ruthless  havoc  amongst 
their  undisciplined  ranks.  And  Martino,  who  cared 
little  how  many  of  his  mere  mob  were  butchered,  see- 
ing that  his  foes  were  for  the  moment  embarrassed  by 
the  wild  rush  and  gathering  circle  of  his  foot  train 
(for  the  place  of  conflict,  though  wider  than  the  pre- 
vious road,  was  confined  and  narrow),  made  a  sign  to 
some  of  his  horsemen,  and  was  about  to  ride  forward 
towards  the  boat,  now  nearly  out  of  sight,  when  a 
bugle  at  some  distance  was  answered  by  one  of  his 
enemy  at  hand ;  and  the  shout  of  "  Colonna  to  the 
rescue ! "  was  echoed  afar  off.  A  few  moments 
brought  in  view  a  numerous  train  of  horse  at  full 
speed,  with  the  banners  of  the  Colonna  waving  gal- 
lantly in  the  front. 

"  A  plague  on  the  wizards !  who  would  have  imag- 
ined they  had  divined  us  so  craftily ! "  muttered  Mar- 
tino ;  "  we  must  not  abide  these  odds ;  "  and  the  hand 
he  had  first  raised  for  advance,  now  gave  the  signal 
of  retreat. 

Serried  breast  to  breast  and  in  complete  order,  the 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES          11 

horsemen  of  Martino  turned  to  fly;  the  foot  rabble 
who  had  come  for  spoil  remained  but  for  slaughter. 
They  endeavoured  to  imitate  their  leaders ;  but  how 
could  they  all  elude  the  rushing  chargers  and  sharp 
lances  of  their  antagonists,  whose  blood  was  heated 
by  the  affray,  and  who  regarded  the  lives  at  their 
mercy  as  a  boy  regards  the  wasp's  nest  he  destroys. 
The  crowd  dispersing  in  all  directions, — some,  indeed, 
escaped  up  the  hills,  where  the  footing  was  imprac- 
ticable to  the  horses ;  some  plunged  into  the  river  and 
swam  across  to  the  opposite  bank, — those  less  cool  or 
experienced,  who  fled  right  onwards,  served,  by  clog- 
ging the  way  of  their  enemy,  to  facilitate  the  flight  of 
their  leaders,  but  fell  themselves,  corpse  upon  corpse, 
butchered  in  the  unrelenting  and  unresisted  pursuit. 

"  No  quarter  to  the  ruffians — every  Orsini  slain  is 
a  robber  the  less — strike  for  God,  the  Emperor,  and 
the  Colonna !  "  such  were  the  shouts  which  rung  the 
knell  of  the  dismayed  and  falling  fugitives.  Among 
those  who  fled  onward,  in  the  very  path  most  ac- 
cessible to  the  cavalry,  was  the  young  brother  of  Cola, 
so  innocently  mixed  with  the  affray.  Fast  he  fled, 
dizzy  with  terror — poor  boy,  scarce  before  ever  parted 
from  his  parents'  or  his  brother's  side ! — the  trees 
glided  past  him — the  banks  receded  : — on  he  sped, 
and  fast  behind  came  the  tramp  of  the  hoofs — the 
shouts — the  curses — the  fierce  laughter  of  the  foe,  as 
they  bounded  over  the  dead  and  the  dying  in  their 
path.  He  was  now  at  the  spot  in  which  his  brother 
had  left  him;  hastily  he  glanced  behind,  and  saw  the 
couched  lance  and  horrent  crest  of  the  horseman  close 
at  his  rear;  despairingly  he  looked  up,  and,  behold! 
his  brother  bursting  through  the  tangled  brakes  that 
clothed  the  mountain,  and  bounding  to  his  succor. 


12  RIENZI 

"  Save  me !  save  me,  brother !  "  he  shrieked  aloud, 
and  the  shriek  reached  Cola's  ear; — the  snort  of  the 
fiery  charger  breathed  hot  upon  him ; — a  moment 
more,  and  with  one  wild  shrill  cry  of  "  Mercy,  mercy," 
he  fell  to  the  ground — a  corpse :  the  lance  of  the  pur- 
suer passing  through  and  through  him,  from  back  to 
breast,  and  nailing  him  on  the  very  sod  where  he  had 
sate,  full  of  young  life  and  careless  hope,  not  an  hour 
ago. 

The  horseman  plucked  forth  his  spear,  and  passed 
on  in  pursuit  of  new  victims;  his  comrades  following. 
Cola  had  descended, — was  on  the  spot, — kneeling  by 
his  murdered  brother.  Presently,  to  the  sound  of 
horn  and  trumpet,  came  by  a  nobler  company  than 
most  of  those  hitherto  engaged  ;  who  had  been,  indeed, 
but  the  advanced-guard  of  the  Colonna.  At  their 
head  rode  a  man  in  years,  whose  long  white  hair 
escaped  from  his  plumed  cap  and  mingled  with  his 
venerable  beard.  "  How  is  this?  "  said  the  chief,  rein- 
ing in  his  steed,  "  young  Rienzi !  " 

The  youth  looked  up,  as  he  heard  that  voice,  and 
then  flung  himself  before  the  steed  of  the  old  noble, 
and,  clasping  his  hands,  cried  out  in  a  scarce  articulate 
tone :  "  It  is  my  brother,  noble  Stephen, — a  boy,  a 
mere  child  ! — the  best — the  mildest !  See  how  his 
blood  dabbles  the  grass; — back,  back — your  horse's 
hoofs  are  in  the  stream !  Justice,  my  Lord,  justice ! — 
you  are  a  great  man." 

"Who  slew  him?  an  Orsini,  doubtless;  you  shall 
have  justice." 

"  Thanks,  thanks,"  murmured  Rienzi,  as  he  tottered 
once  more  to  his  brother's  side,  turned  the  boy's  face 
from  the  grass,  and  strove  wildly  to  feel  the  pulse  of 
his  heart ;  he  drew  back  his  hand  hastily,  for  it  was 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES          13 

crimsoned  with  blood,  and  lifting  that  hand  on  high, 
shrieked  out  again,  "  Justice  !  justice  !  " 

The  group  round  the  old  Stephen  Colonna,  hard- 
ened as  they  were  in  such  scenes,  were  affected  by 
the  sight.  A  handsome  boy,  whose  tears  ran  fast 
down  his  cheeks,  and  who  rode  his  palfrey  close  by 
the  side  of  the  Colonna,  drew  forth  his  sword.  "  My 
Lord,"  said  he,  half  sobbing,  "  an  Orsini  only  could 
have  butchered  a  harmless  lad  like  this ;  let  us  lose 
not  a  moment, — let  us  on  after  the  ruffians." 

"  No,  Adrian,  no ! "  cried  Stephen,  laying  his  hand 
on  the  boy's  shoulder ;  "  your  zeal  is  to  be  lauded,  but 
we  must  beware  an  ambush.  Our  men  have  ventured 
too  far — what  ho,  there  ! — sound  a  return." 

The  -bugles,  in  a  few  minutes,  brought  back  the 
pursuers, — among  them,  the  horseman  whose  spear 
had  been  so  fatally  misused.  He  was  the  leader 
of  those  engaged  in  the  conflict  with  Martino  di 
Porto;  and  the  gold  wrought  into  his  armour,  with 
the  gorgeous  trappings  of  his  charger,  betokened  his 
rank. 

"  Thanks,  my  son,  thanks,"  said  the  old  Colonna  to 
this  cavalier,  "  you  have  done  well  and  bravely.  But 
tell  me,  knowest  thou,  for  thou  hast  an  eagle  eye, 
which  of  the  Orsini  slew  this  poor  boy  ? — a  foul  deed ; 
his  family,  too,  our  clients !  " 

"  Who  ?  yon  lad  ?  "  replied  the  horseman,  lifting  the 
helmet  from  his  head,  and  wiping  his  heated  brow ; 
"  say  you  so !  how  came  he,  then,  with  Martino's  ras- 
cals? I  fear  me  the  mistake  hath  cost  him  dear.  I 
could  but  suppose  him  of  the  Orsini  rabble,  and  so — 
and  so " 

"  You  slew  him ! "  cried  Rienzi,  in  a  voice  of  thun- 
der, starting  from  the  ground.  "  Justice !  then,  my 


14  RIENZI 

Lord  Stephen,  justice !  you  promised  me  justice,  and 
I  will  have  it !  " 

"  My  poor  youth,"  said  the  old  man,  compassion- 
ately, "  you  should  have  had  justice  against  the  Orsini ; 
but  see  you  not  this  has  been  an  error?  I  do  not 
wonder  you  are  too  grieved  to  listen  to  reason  now. 
We  must  make  this  up  to  you." 

"  And  let  this  pay  for  masses  for  the  boy's  soul :  I 
grieve  me  much  for  the  accident,"  said  the  younger 
Colonna,  flinging  down  a  purse  of  gold.  "  Ay,  see  us 
at  the  palace  next  week,  young  Cola — next  week. 
My  father,  we  had  best  return  towards  the  boat;  its 
safeguard  may  require  us  yet." 

"  Right,  Gianni ;  stay,  some  two  of  you,  and  see  to 
the  poor  lad's  corpse ; — a  grievous  accident !  how 
could  it  chance  ?  " 

The  company  passed  back  the  way  they  came,  two 
of  the  common  soldiers  alone  remaining,  except  the 
boy  Adrian,  who  lingered  behind  a  few  moments, 
striving  to  console  Rienzi,  who,  as  one  bereft  of  sense, 
remained  motionless,  gazing  on  the  proud  array  as  it 
swept  along,  and  muttering  to  himself,  "  Justice,  jus- 
tice !  I  will  have  it  yet." 

The  loud  voice  of  the  elder  Colonna  summoned 
Adrian,  reluctantly  and  weeping,  away.  "  Let  me  be 
your  brother,"  said  the  gallant  boy,  affectionately 
pressing  the  scholar's  hand  to  his  heart ;  "  I  want  a 
brother  like  you." 

Rienzi  made  no  reply;  he  did  not  heed  or  hear 
him — dark  and  stern  thoughts,  thoughts  in  which  were 
the  germ  of  a  mighty  revolution,  were  at  his  heart. 
He  woke  from  them  with  a  start,  as  the  soldiers  were 
now  arranging  their  bucklers  so  as  to  make  a  kind  of 
bier  for  the  corpse,  and  then  burst  into  tears  as  he 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES          15 

fiercely  motioned  them  away,  and  clasped  the  clay  to 
his  breast  till  he  was  literally  soaked  with  the  oozing 
blood. 

The  poor  child's  garland  had  not  dropped  from  his 
arm  even  when  he  fell,  and,  entangled  by  his  dress,  it 
still  clung  around  him.  It  was  a  sight  that  recalled  to 
Cola  all  the  gentleness,  the  kind  heart,  and  winning 
graces  of  his  only  brother — his  only  friend!  It  was 
a  sight  that  seemed  to  make  yet  more  inhuman  the 
untimely  and  unmerited  fate  of  that  innocent  boy. 
"  My  brother !  my  brother !  "  groaned  the  survivor ; 
"  how  shall  I  meet  our  mother  ? — how  shall  I  meet 
even  night  and  solitude  again? — so  young,  so  harm- 
less !  See  ye,  sirs,  he  was  but  too  gentle.  And  they 
will  not  give  us  justice,  because  his  murderer  was  a 
noble  and  a  Colonna.  And  this  gold,  too — gold  for  a 
brother's  blood !  Will  they  not " — and  the  young 
man's  eyes  glared  like  fire — "  will  they  not  give  us  jus- 
tice ?  Time  shall  show !  "  So  saying,  he  bent  his  head 
over  the  corpse ;  his  lips  muttered,  as  with  some  prayer 
or  invocation ;  and  then  rising,  his  face  was  as  pale  as 
the  dead  beside  him, — but  it  was  no  longer  pale  with 
grief! 

From  that  bloody  clay,  and  that  inward  prayer,  Cola 
di  Rienzi  rose  a  new  being.  With  his  young  brother 
died  his  own  youth.  But  for  that  event,  the  future 
liberator  of  Rome  might  have  been  but  a  dreamer,  a 
scholar,  a  poet ;  the  peaceful  rival  of  Petrarch ;  a  man 
of  thoughts,  not  deeds.  But  from  that  time,  all  his 
faculties,  energies,  fancies,  genius,  became  concen- 
trated into  a  single  point;  and  patriotism,  before  a 
vision,  leapt  into  the  life  and  vigour  of  a  passion,  last- 
ingly kindled,  stubbornly  hardened,  and  awfully  con- 
secrated,— by  revenge ! 


16  RIENZI 


CHAPTER   II 

AN    HISTORICAL    SURVEY NOT    TO    BE    PASSED    OVER, 

EXCEPT    BY    THOSE    WHO    DISLIKE    TO    UNDERSTAND 
WHAT  THEY  READ 

Years  had  passed  away,  and  the  death  of  the  Roman 
boy,  amidst  more  noble  and  less  excusable  slaughter, 
was  soon  forgotten, — forgotten  almost  by  the  parents 
of  the  slain,  in  the  growing  fame  and  fortunes  of  their 
eldest  son, — forgotten  and  forgiven  never  by  that  son 
himself.  But,  between  that  prologue  of  blood,  and 
the  political  drama  which  ensues, — between  the  fading 
interest,  as  it  were,  of  a  dream,  and  the  more  busy, 
actual,  and  continuous  excitements  of  sterner  life, — 
this  may  be  the  most  fitting  time  to  place  before  the 
reader  a  short  and  rapid  outline  of  the  state  and  cir- 
cumstances of  that  city  in  which  the  principal  scenes 
of  this  story  are  laid ; — an  outline  necessary,  perhaps, 
to  many,  for  a  full  comprehension  of  the  motives  of 
the  actors,  and  the  vicissitudes  of  the  plot. 

Despite  the  miscellaneous  and  mongrel  tribes  that 
had  forced  their  settlements  in  the  City  of  the  Caesars, 
the  Roman  population  retained  an  inordinate  notion 
of  their  own  supremacy  over  the  rest  of  the  world ; 
and,  degenerated  from  the  iron  virtues  of  the  Repub- 
lic, possessed  all  the  insolent  and  unruly  turbulence 
which  characterised  the  Plebs  of  the  ancient  Forum. 
Amongst  a  ferocious,  yet  not  a  brave  populace,  the 
nobles  supported  themselves  less  as  sagacious  tyrants 
than  as  relentless  banditti.  The  popes  had  struggled 
in  vain  against  these  stubborn  and  stern  patricians. 
Their  state  derided,  their  command  defied,  their  per- 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES         17 

sons  publicly  outraged,  the  pontiff-sovereigns  of  the 
rest  of  Europe  resided,  at  the  Vatican,  as  prisoners 
under  terror  of  execution.  When,  thirty-eight  years 
before  the  date  of  the  events  we  are  about  to  witness, 
a  Frenchman  under  the  name  of  Clement  V.,  had 
ascended  the  chair  of  St.  Peter,  the  new  pope,  with 
more  prudence  than  valour,  had  deserted  Rome  for  the 
tranquil  retreat  of  Avignon;  and  the  luxurious  town 
of  a  foreign  province  became  the  court  of  the  Roman 
pontiff,  and  the  throne  of  the  Christian  Church. 

Thus  deprived  of  even  the  nominal  check  of  the 
papal  presence,  the  power  of  the  nobles  might  be  said 
to  have  no  limits,  save  their  own  caprice,  or  their 
mutual  jealousies  and  feuds.  Though  arrogating 
through  fabulous  genealogies  their  descent  from  the 
ancient  Romans,  they  were,  in  reality,  for  the  most 
part,  the  sons  of  the  bolder  barbarians  of  the  North ; 
and,  contaminated  by  the  craft  of  Italy,  rather  than 
imbued  with  its  national  affections,  they  retained  the 
disdain  of  their  foreign  ancestors  for  a  conquered  soil 
and  a  degenerate  people.  While  the  rest  of  Italy, 
especially  in  Florence,  in  Venice,  and  in  Milan,  was 
fast  and  far  advancing  beyond  the  other  states  of 
Europe  in  civilisation  and  in  art,  the  Romans  appeared 
rather  to  recede  than  to  improve ; — unblest  by  laws, 
unvisited  by  art,  strangers  at  once  to  the  chivalry  of 
a  warlike,  and  the  graces  of  a  peaceful  people.  But 
they  still  possessed  the  sense  and  desire  of  liberty, 
and,  by  ferocious  paroxysms  and  desperate  struggles, 
sought  to  vindicate  for  their  city  the  title  it  still 
assumed  of  "  the  Metropolis  of  the  World."  For  the 
last  two  centuries  they  had  known  various  revolu- 
tions,— brief,  often  bloody,  and  always  unsuccessful. 
Still,  there  was  the  empty  pageant  of  a  popular  form 


18  RIENZI 

of  government.  The  thirteen  quarters  of  the  city 
named  each  a  chief ;  and  the  assembly  of  these  magis- 
trates, called  Caporioni,  by  theory  possessed  an  author- 
ity they  had  neither  the  power  nor  the  courage  to 
exert.  Still  there  was  the  proud  name  of  Senator; 
but,  at  the  present  time,  the  office  was  confined  to  one 
or  to  two  persons,  sometimes  elected  by  the  pope, 
sometimes  by  the  nobles.  The  authority  attached  to 
the  name  seems  to  have  had  no  definite  limit;  it  was 
that  of  a  stern  dictator,  or  an  indolent  puppet,  accord- 
ing as  he  who  held  it  had  the  power  to  enforce  the  dig- 
nity he  assumed.  It  was  never  conceded  but  to  nobles, 
and  it  was  by  the  nobles  that  all  the  outrages  were 
committed.  Private  enmity  alone  was  gratified  when- 
ever public  justice  was  invoked:  and  the  vindication 
of  order  was  but  the  execution  of  revenge. 

Holding  their  palaces  as  the  castles  and  fortresses 
of  princes,  each  asserting  his  own  independency  of  all 
authority  and  law,  and  planting  fortifications,  and 
claiming  principalities  in  the  patrimonial  territories 
of  the  Church,  the  barons  of  Rome  made  their 
state  still  more  secure,  and  still  more  odious,  by  the 
maintenance  of  troops  of  foreign  (chiefly  of  German) 
mercenaries,  at  once  braver  in  disposition,  more 
disciplined  in  service,  and  more  skilful  in  arms, 
than  even  the  freest  Italians  of  that  time.  Thus  they 
united  the  judicial  and  the  military  force,  not  for 
the  protection,  but  for  the  ruin  of  Rome.  Of  these 
barons,  the  most  powerful  were  the  Orsini  and 
Colonna ;  their  feuds  were  hereditary  and  incessant, 
and  every  day  witnessed  the  fruits  of  their  lawless  war- 
fare, in  bloodshed,  in  rape,  and  in  conflagration.  The 
flattery  or  the  friendship  of  Petrarch,  too  credulous- 
ly believed  by  modern  historians,  has  invested  the 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES          19 

Colonna,  especially  of  the  date  now  entered  upon,  with 
an  elegance  and  a  dignity  not  their  own.  Outrage, 
fraud,  and  assassination,  a  sordid  avarice  in  securing 
lucrative  offices  to  themselves,  an  insolent  oppression 
of  their  citizens,  and  the  most  dastardly  cringing  to 
power  superior  to  their  own  (with  but  few  exceptions), 
mark  the  character  of  the  first  family  of  Rome.  But, 
wealthier  than  the  rest  of  the  barons,  they  were,  there- 
fore, more  luxurious,  and,  perhaps,  more  intellectual ; 
and  their  pride  was  flattered  in  being  patrons  of  those 
arts  of  which  they  could  never  have  become  the  pro- 
fessors. From  these  multiplied  oppressors  the  Ro- 
man citizens  turned  with  fond  and  impatient  regret 
to  their  ignorant  and  dark  notions  of  departed  liberty 
and  greatness.  They  confounded  the  times  of  the 
Empire  with  those  of  the  Republic ;  and  often  looked 
to  the  Teutonic  king,  who  obtained  his  election  from 
beyond  the  Alps,  but  his  title  of  emperor  from  the 
Romans,  as  the  deserter  of  his  legitimate  trust  and 
proper  home ;  vainly  imagining  that,  if  both  the 
Emperor  and  the  Pontiff  fixed  their  residence  in 
Rome,  Liberty  and  Law  would  again  seek  their  nat- 
ural shelter  beneath  the  resuscitated  majesty  of  the 
Roman  people. 

The  absence  of  the  pope  and  the  papal  court  served 
greatly  to  impoverish  the  citizens ;  and  they  had  suf- 
fered yet  more  visibly  by  the  depredations  of  hordes 
of  robbers,  numerous  and  unsparing,  who  infested 
Romagna,  obstructing  all  the  public  ways,  and  were, 
sometimes  secretly,  sometimes  openly,  protected  by 
the  barons,  who  often  recruited  their  banditti  garri- 
sons by  banditti  soldiers. 

But  besides  the  lesser  and  ignobler  robbers,  there 
had  risen  in  Italy  a  far  more  formidable  description 


20  RIENZI 

of  freebooters.  A  German,  who  assumed  the  lofty 
title  of  the  Duke  Werner,  had,  a  few  years  prior  to  the 
period  we  approach,  enlisted  and  organised  a  consider- 
able force,  styled  "  The  Great  Company,"  with  which 
he  besieged  cities  and  invaded  states,  without  any 
object  less  shameless  than  that  of  pillage.  His  exam- 
ple was  soon  imitated :  numerous  "  Companies,"  simi- 
larly constituted,  devastated  the  distracted  and  divided 
land.  They  appeared,  suddenly  raised,  as  if  by  magic, 
before  the  walls  of  a  city,  and  demanded  immense 
sums  as  the  purchase  of  peace.  Neither  tyrant  nor 
commonwealth  maintained  a  force  sufficient  to  resist 
them  ;  and  if  other  northern  mercenaries  were  engaged 
to  oppose  them,  it  was  only  to  recruit  the  standards 
of  the  freebooters  with  deserters.  Mercenary  fought 
not  mercenary — nor  German,  German :  and  greater 
pay,  and  more  unbridled  rapine,  made  the  tents  of  the 
"  Companies  "  far  more  attractive  than  the  regulated 
stipends  of  a  city,  or  the  dull  fortress  and  impoverished 
coffers  of  a  chief.  Werner,  the  most  implacable  and 
ferocious  of  all  these  adventurers,  and  who  had  so 
openly  gloried  in  his  enormities  as  to  wear  upon  his 
breast  a  silver  plate,  engraved  with  the  words, 
"  Enemy  to  God,  to  Pity,  and  to  Mercy,"  had  not  long 
since  ravaged  Romagna  with  fire  and  sword.  But, 
whether  induced  by  money,  or  unable  to  control  the 
fierce  spirits  he  had  raised,  he  afterwards  led  the  bulk 
of  his  company  back  to  Germany.  Small  detach- 
ments, however,  remained,  scattered  throughout  the 
land,  waiting  only  an  able  leader  once  more  to  re-unite 
them :  amongst  those  who  appeared  most  fitted  for 
that  destiny  was  Walter  de  Montreal,  a  Knight  of  St. 
John,  and  gentleman  of  Provence,  whose  valour  and 
military  genius  had  already,  though  yet  young,  raised 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES          21 

his  name  into  dreaded  celebrity ;  and  whose  ambition, 
experience,  and  sagacity,  relieved  by  certain  chivalric 
and  noble  qualities,  were  suited  to  enterprises  far 
greater  and  more  important  than  the  violent  depreda- 
tions of  the  atrocious  Werner.  From  these  scourges,  no 
state  had  suffered  more  grievously  than  Rome.  The 
patrimonial  territories  of  the  pope, — in  part  wrested 
from  him  by  petty  tyrants,  in  part  laid  waste  by  these 
foreign  robbers, — yielded  but  a  scanty  supply  to  the 
necessities  of  Clement  VI.,  the  most  accomplished  gen- 
tleman and  the  most  graceful  voluptuary  of  his  time; 
and  the  good  father  had  devised  a  plan,  whereby  to 
enrich  at  once  the  Romans  and  their  pontiff. 

Nearly  fifty  years  before  the  time  we  enter  upon,  in 
order  both  to  replenish  the  papal  coffers  and  pacify 
the  starving  Romans,  Boniface  VIII.  had  instituted 
the  Festival  of  the  Jubilee,  or  Holy  Year;  in  fact  a 
revival  of  a  Pagan  ceremonial.  A  plenary  indulgence 
was  promised  to  every  Catholic,  who,  in  that  year,  and 
in  the  first  year  of  every  succeeding  century,  should 
visit  the  churches  of  St.  Peter  and  St.  Paul.  An  im- 
mense concourse  of  pilgrims,  from  every  part  of 
Christendom,  had  attested  the  wisdom  of  the  inven- 
tion :  "  and  two  priests  stood  night  and  day,  with  rakes 
in  their  hands,  to  collect  without  counting  the  heaps 
of  gold  and  silver  that  were  poured  on  the  altar  of  St. 
Paul." 

It  is  not  to  be  wondered  at  that  this  most  lucrative 
festival  should,  ere  the  next  century  was  half  expired, 
appear  to  a  discreet  pontiff  to  be  too  long  postponed. 
And  both  pope  and  city  agreed  in  thinking  it  might 
well  bear  a  less  distant  renewal.  Accordingly,  Clement 
VI.  had  proclaimed,  under  the  name  of  the  Mosaic 
Jubilee,  a  second  Holy  Year  for  1350 — viz.,  three 


22  RIENZI 

years  distant  from  that  date  at  which,  in  the  next  chap- 
ter, my  narrative  will  commence.  This  circumstance 
had  a  great  effect  in  whetting  the  popular  indignation 
against  the  barons,  and  preparing  the  events  I  shall 
relate ;  for  the  roads~were,  as  I  before  said,  infested 
by  the  banditti,  the  creatures  and  allies  of  the  barons. 
And  if  the  roads  were  not  cleared,  the  pilgrims  might 
not  attend.  It  was  the  object  of  the  pope's  vicar, 
Raimond,  bishop  of  Orvietto  (bad  politician  and  good 
canonist),  to  seek,  by  every  means,  to  remove  all  im- 
pediment between  the  offerings  of  devotion  and  the 
treasury  of  St.  Peter. 

Such,  in  brief,  was  the  state  of  Rome  at  the  period 
we  are  about  to  examine.  Her  ancient  mantle  of 
renown  still,  in  the  eyes  of  Italy  and  of  Europe, 
cloaked  her  ruins.  In  name,  at  first  she  was  still  the 
queen  of  the  earth ;  and  from  her  hands  came  the 
crown  of  the  emperor  of  the  north,  and  the  keys  of 
the  father  of  the  church.  Her  situation  was  precisely 
that  which  presented  a  vast  and  glittering  triumph  to 
bold  ambition, — an  inspiring,  if  mournful,  spectacle  to 
determined  patriotism, — and  a  fitting  stage  for  that 
more  august  tragedy  which  seeks  its  incidents,  selects 
its  actors,  and  shapes  its  moral,  amidst  the  vicissitudes 
and  crimes  of  nations. 


CHAPTER    III 

THE   BRAWL 

On  an  evening  in  April,  1347,  and  in  one  of  those 
wide  spaces  in  which  Modern  and  Ancient  Rome 
seemed  blent  together — equally  desolate  and  equally 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES          23 

in  ruins — a  miscellaneous  and  indignant  populace 
were  assembled.  That  morning  the  house  of  a 
Roman  jeweller  had  been  forcibly  entered  and  pil- 
laged by  the  soldiers  of  Martino  di  Porto,  with  a  dar- 
ing effrontery  which  surpassed  even  the  ordinary 
licence  of  the  barons.  The  sympathy  and  sensation 
throughout  the  city  were  deep  and  ominous. 

"  Never  will  I  submit  to  this  tyranny !  " 

"  Nor  I !  " 

"  Nor  I !  " 

"  Nor,  by  the  bones  of  St.  Peter,  will  I !  " 

"  And  what,  my  friends,  is  this  tyranny  to  which  you 
will  not  submit  ?  "  said  a  young  nobleman,  addressing 
himself  to  the  crowd  of  citizens  who,  heated,  angry, 
half-armed,  and  with  the  vehement  gestures  of  Italian 
passion,  were  now  sweeping  down  the  long  and  nar- 
row street  that  led  to  the  gloomy  quarter  occupied  by 
the  Orsini. 

"  Ah,  my  lord !  "  cried  two  or  three  of  the  citizens 
in  a  breath,  "  you  will  right  us — you  will  see  justice 
done  to  us — you  are  a  Colonna." 

"  Ha,  ha,  ha ! "  laughed  scornfully  one  man  of 
gigantic  frame,  and  wielding  on  high  a  huge  ham- 
mer, indicative  of  his  trade.  "  Justice  and  Colonna ! 
body  of  God!  those  names  are  not  often  found  to- 
gether." 

"  Down  with  him !  down  with  him !  he  is  an  Orsi- 
nist, — down  with  him ! "  cried  at  least  ten  of  the 
throng :  but  no  hand  was  raised  against  the  giant. 

"  He  speaks  the  truth,"  said  a  second  voice,  firmly. 

"  Ay,  that  doth  he,"  said  a  third,  knitting  his  brows, 
and  unsheathing  his  knife,  "  and  we  will  abide  by  it. 
The  Orsini  are  tyrants — and  the  Colonnas  are,  at  the 
best,  as  bad." 


24  RIENZI 

"  Thou  liest  in  thy  teeth,  ruffian !  "  cried  the  young 
noble,  advancing  into  the  press  and  confronting  the 
last  asperser  of  the  Colonna. 

Before  the  flashing  eye  and  menacing  gesture  of 
the  cavalier,  the  worthy  brawler  retreated  some  steps, 
so  as  to  leave  an  open  space  between  the  towering 
form  of  the  smith,  and  the  small,  slender,  but  vigorous 
frame  of  the  young  noble. 

Taught  from  their  birth  to  despise  the  courage  of 
the  plebeians,  even  while  careless  of  much  reputation 
as  to  their  own,  the  patricians  of  Rome  were  not  unac- 
customed to  the  rude  fellowship  of  these  brawls ;  nor 
was  it  unoften  that  the  mere  presence  of  a  noble  suf- 
ficed to  scatter  whole  crowds,  that  had  the  moment 
before  been  breathing  vengeance  against  his  order  and 
his  house. 

Waving  his  hand,  therefore,  to.  the  smith,  and 
utterly  unheeding  either  his  brandished  weapon  or  his 
vast  stature,  the  young  Adrian  di  Castello,  a  distant 
kinsman  of  the  Colonna,  haughtily  bade  him  give  way. 

"  To  your  homes,  friends !  and  know,"  he  added, 
with  some  dignity,  "  that  ye  wrong  us  much,  if  ye 
imagine  we  share  the  evil-doings  of  the  Orsini,  or  are 
pandering  solely  to  our  own  passions  in  the  feud  be- 
tween their  house  and  ours.  May  the  Holy  Mother 
so  judge  me,"  continued  he,  devoutly  lifting  up  his 
eyes,  "  as  I  now  with  truth  declare,  that  it  is  for  your 
wrongs,  and  for  the  wrongs  of  Rome,  that  I  have 
drawn  this  sword  against  the  Orsini." 

"  So  say  all  the  tyrants,"  rejoined  the  smith,  hardily, 
as  he  leant  his  hammer  against  a  fragment  of  stone — 
some  remnant  of  ancient  Rome — "  they  never  fight 
against  each  other,  but  it  is  for  our  good.  One 
Colonna  cuts  me  the  throat  of  Orsini's  baker — it  is  for 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES          25 

our  good !  another  Colonna  seizes  on  the  daughter  of 
Orsini's  tailor — it  is  for  our  good !  our  good — yes,  for 
the  good  of  the  people ! — the  good  of  the  bakers  and 
tailors,  eh  ?  " 

"  Fellow,"  said  the  young  nobleman,  gravely,  "  if  a 
Colonna  did  thus,  he  did  wrong ;  but  the  holiest  cause 
may  have  bad  supporters." 

"  Yes,  the  holy  Church  itself  is  propped  on  very 
indifferent  columns,"  answered  the  smith,  in  a  rude 
witticism  on  the  affection  of  the  pope  for  the  Colonna. 

"  He  blasphemes !  the  smith  blasphemes !  "  cried  the 
partisans  of  that  powerful  house.  "  A  Colonna,  a 
Colonna ! " 

"  An  Orsini,  an  Orsini !  "  was  no  less  promptly  the 
counter  cry. 

"  THE  PEOPLE  !  "  shouted  the  smith,  waving  his  for- 
midable weapon  far  above  the  heads  of  the  group. 

In  an  instant  the  whole  throng,  who  had  at  first 
united  against  the  aggression  of  one  man,  were  divided 
by  the  hereditary  wrath  of  faction.  At  the  cry  of 
Orsini,  several  new  partisans  hurried  to  the  spot;  the 
friends  of  the  Colonna  drew  themselves  on  one  side — 
the  defenders  of  the  Orsini  on  the  other — and  the  few 
who  agreed  with  the  smith  that  both  factions  were 
equally  odious,  and  the  people  was  the  sole  legitimate 
cry  in  a  popular  commotion,  would  have  withdrawn 
themselves  from  the  approaching  melee,  if  the  smith 
himself,  who  was  looked  upon  by  them  as  an  authority 
of  great  influence,  had  not — whether  from  resentment 
at  the  haughty  bearing  of  the  young  Colonna,  or  from 
that  appetite  of  contest  not  uncommon  in  men  of  a 
bulk  and  force  which  assure  them  in  all  personal 
affrays  the  lofty  pleasure  of  superiority — if,  I  say,  the 
smith  himself  had  not,  after  a  pause  of  indecision, 


26  RIENZI 

retired  among  the  Orsini,  and  entrained,  by  his  exam- 
ple, the  alliance  of  his  friends  with  the  favourers  of  that 
faction. 

In  popular  commotions,  each  man  is  whirled  along 
with  the  herd,  often  half  against  his  own  approbation 
or  assent.  The  few  words  of  peace  by  which  Adrian 
di  Castello  commenced  an  address  to  his  friends  were 
drowned  amidst  their  shouts.  Proud  to  find  in  their 
ranks  one  of  the  most  beloved,  and  one  of  the  noblest 
of  that  name,  the  partisans  of  the  Colonna  placed  him 
in  their  front,  and  charged  impetuously  on  their  foes. 
Adrian,  however,  who  had  acquired  from  circum- 
stances something  of  that  chivalrous  code  which  he 
certainly  could  not  have  owed  to  his  Roman  birth,  dis- 
dained at  first  to  assault  men  among  whom  he  recog- 
nised no  equal,  either  in  rank  or  the  practice  of  arms. 
He  contented  himself  with  putting  aside  the  few 
strokes  that  were  aimed  at  him  in  the  gathering  confu- 
sion of  the  conflict — few;  for  those  who  recognised 
him,  even  amidst  the  bitterest  partisans  of  the  Orsini, 
were  not  willing  to  expose  themselves  to  the  danger 
and  odium  of  spilling  the  blood  of  a  man,  who,  in  addi- 
tion to  his  great  birth  and  the  terrible  power  of  his 
connexions,  was  possessed  of  a  personal  popularity, 
which  he  owed  rather  to  a  comparison  with  the  vices 
of  his  relatives  than  to  any  remarkable  virtues  hitherto 
displayed  by  himself.  The  smith  alone,  who  had  as 
yet  taken  no  active  part  in  the  fray,  seemed  to  gather 
himself  up  in  determined  opposition  as  the  cavalier 
now  advanced  within  a  few  steps  of  him. 

"  Did  we  not  tell  thee,"  quoth  the  giant,  frowning, 
"  that  the  Colonna  were,  not  less  than  the  Orsini,  the 
foes  of  the  people  ?  Look  at  thy  followers  and  clients : 
are  they  not  cutting  the  throats  of  humble  men  by 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES          27 

way  of  vengeance  for  the  crime  of  a  great  one  ?  But 
that  is  the  way  one  patrician  always  scourges  the  inso- 
lence of  another.  He  lays  the  rod  on  the  backs  of  the 
people,  and  then  cries,  '  See  how  just  I  am ! ' ' 

"  I  do  not  answer  thee  now,"  answered  Adrian ; 
"  but  if  thou  regretest  with  me  this  waste  of  blood,  join 
with  me  in  attempting  to  prevent  it." 

"  I — not  I !  let  the  blood  of  the  slaves  flow  to-day : 
the  time  is  fast  coming  when  it  shall  be  washed  away 
by  the  blood  of  the  lords." 

"  Away,  ruffian !  "  said  Adrian,  seeking  no  further 
parley,  and  touching  the  smith  with  the  flat  side  of  his 
sword.  In  an  instant  the  hammer  of  the  smith  swung 
in  the  air,  and,  but  for  the  active  spring  of  the  young 
noble,  would  infallibly  have  crushed  him  to  the  earth. 
Ere  the  smith  could  gain  time  for  a  second  blow, 
Adrian's  sword  passed  twice  through  his  right  arm, 
and  the  weapon  fell  heavily  to  the  ground. 

"  Slay  him,  slay  him !  "  cried  several  of  the  clients  of 
the  Colonna,  now  pressing,  dastard-like,  round  the 
disarmed  and  disabled  smith. 

"  Ay,  slay  him ! "  said,  in  tolerable  Italian,  but  with 
a  barbarous  accent,  one  man,  half-clad  in  armour,  who 
had  but  just  joined  the  group,  and  who  was  one  of 
those  wild  German  bandits  whom  the  Colonna  held 
in  their  pay ;  "  he  belongs  to  a  horrible  gang  of  mis- 
creants sworn  against  all  order  and  peace.  He  is  one 
of  Rienzi's  followers,  and,  bless  the  Three  Kings! 
raves  about  the  People." 

"  Thou  sayest  right,  barbarian,"  said  the  sturdy 
smith,  in  a  loud  voice,  and  tearing  aside  the  vest  from 
his  breast  with  his  left  hand ;  "  come  all — Colonna  and 
Orsini — dig  to  this  heart  with  your  sharp  blades,  and 
when  you  have  reached  the  centre,  you  will  find  there 


28  RIENZI 

the  object  of  your  common  hatred — '  Rienzi  and  the 
People ! ' " 

As  he  uttered  these  words,  in  language  that  would 
have  seemed  above  his  station  (if  a  certain  glow  and 
exaggeration  of  phrase  and  sentiment  were  not  com- 
mon, when  excited,  to  all  the  Romans),  the  loudness 
of  his  voice  rose  above  the  noise  immediately  round 
him,  and  stilled,  for  an  instant,  the  general  din;  and 
when,  at  last,  the  words,  "  Rienzi  and  the  People," 
rang  forth,  they  penetrated  midway  through  the  in- 
creasing crowd,  and  were  answered  as  by  an  echo, 
with  a  hundred  voices — "  Rienzi  and  the  People !  " 

But  whatever  impression  the  words  of  the  mechanic 
made  on  others,  it  was  equally  visible  in  the  young 
Colonna.  At  the  name  of  Rienzi  the  glow  of  excite- 
ment vanished  from  his  cheek;  he  started  back,  mut- 
tered to  himself,  and  for  a  moment  seemed,  even  in 
the  midst  of  that  stirring  commotion,  to  be  lost  in  a 
moody  and  distant  reverie.  He  recovered,  as  the 
shout  died  away;  and  saying  to  the  smith,  in  a  low 
tone,  "  Friend,  I  am  sorry  for  thy  wound ;  but  seek 
me  on  the  morrow,  and  thou  shalt  find  thou  hast 
wronged  me ; "  he  beckoned  to  the  German  to  follow 
him,  and  threaded  his  way  through  the  crowd,  which 
generally  gave  back  as  he  advanced.  For  the  bitterest 
hatred  to  the  order  of  the  nobles  was  at  that  time  in 
Rome  mingled  with  a  servile  respect  for  their  persons, 
and  a  mysterious  awe  of  their  uncontrollable  power. 

As  Adrian  passed  through  that  part  of  the  crowd 
in  which  the  fray  had  not  yet  commenced,  the  mur- 
murs that  followed  him  were  not  those  which  many 
of  his  race  could  have  heard. 

"  A  Colonna,"  said  one. 

"  Yet  no  ravisher,"  said  another,  laughing  wildly. 


29 

"  Nor  murtherer,"  muttered  a  third,  pressing  his 
hand  to  his  breast.  "  'Tis  not  against  him  that  my 
father's  blood  cries  aloud." 

"  Bless  him,"  said  a  fourth,  "  for  as  yet  no  man 
curses  him ! " 

"  Ah,  God  help  us !  "  said  an  old  man,  with  a  long 
gray  beard,  leaning  on  his  staff :  "  the  serpent's  young 
yet ;  the  fangs  will  show  by  and  by." 

"  For  shame,  father !  he  is  a  comely  youth,  and  not 
proud  in  the  least.  What  a  smile  he  hath !  "  quoth  a 
fair  matron,  who  kept  on  the  outskirt  of  the  melee. 

"  Farewell  to  a  man's  honour  when  a  noble  smiles 
on  his  wife  !  "  was  the  answer. 

"  Nay,"  said  Luigi,  a  jolly  butcher,  with  a  roguish 
eye,  "  what  a  man  can  win  fairly  from  maid  or  wife, 
that  let  him  do,  whether  plebeian  or  noble — that's  my 
morality;  but  when  an  ugly  old  patrician  finds  fair 
words  will  not  win  fair  looks,  and  carries  me  off  a 
dame  on  the  back  of  a  German  boar,  with  a  stab  in  the 
side  for  comfort  to  the  spouse, — then  I  say,  he  is  a 
wicked  man,  and  an  adulterer." 

While  such  were  the  comments  and  the  murmurs 
that  followed  the  noble,  very  different  were  the  looks 
and  words  that  attended  the  German  soldier. 

Equally,  nay,  with  even  greater  promptitude,  did 
the  crowd  make  way  at  his  armed  and  heavy  tread; 
but  not  with  looks  of  reverence  : — the  eye  glared  as  he 
approached;  but  the  cheek  grew  pale — the  head 
bowed — the  lip  quivered ;  each  man  felt  a  shudder  of 
hate  and  fear,  as  recognising  a  dread  and  mortal  foe. 
And  well  and  wrathfully  di'd  the  fierce  mercenary  note 
the  signs  of  the  general  aversion.  He  pushed  on 
rudely — half-smiling  in  contempt,  half-frowning  in 
revenge,  as  he  looked  from  side  to  side ;  and  his  long, 


30  RIENZI 

matted,  light  hair,  tawny-coloured  moustache,  and 
brawny  front,  contrasted  strongly  with  the  dark  eyes, 
raven  locks,  and  slender  frames  of  the  Italians. 

"  May  Lucifer  double  damn  those  German  cut- 
throats ! "  muttered,  between  his  grinded  teeth,  one  of 
the  citizens. 

"  Amen  !  "  answered,  heartily,  another. 

"  Hush !  "  said  a  third,  timorously  looking  round ; 
"  if  one  of  them  hear  thee,  thou  art  a  lost  man." 

"  Oh,  Rome !  Rome !  to  what  art  thou  fallen !  "  said 
bitterly  one  citizen,  clothed  in  black,  and  of  a  higher 
seeming  than  the  rest ;  "  when  thou  shudderest  in  thy 
streets  at  the  tread  of  a  hired  barbarian !  " 

"  Hark  to  one  of  our  learned  men,  and  rich  citi- 
zens !  "  said  the  butcher,  reverently. 

"  Tis  a  friend  of  Rienzi's,"  quoth  another  of  the 
group,  lifting  his  cap. 

With  downcast  eyes,  and  a  face  in  which  grief, 
shame,  and  wrath  were  visibly  expressed,  Pandulfo  di 
Guido,  a  citizen  of  birth  and  repute,  swept  slowly 
through  the  crowd,  and  disappeared. 

Meanwhile,  Adrian,  having  gained  a  street  which, 
though  in  the  neighbourhood  of  the  crowd,  was  empty 
and  desolate,  turned  to  his  fierce  comrade.  "  Rodolf !  " 
said  he,  "  mark  ! — no  violence  to  the  citizens.  Return 
to  the  crowd,  collect  the  friends  of  our  house,  with- 
draw them  from  the  scene;  let  not  the  Colonna  be 
blamed  for  this  day's  violence ;  and  assure  our  fol- 
lowers, in  my  name,  that  I  swear,  by  the  knighthood 
I  received  at  the  Emperor's  hands,  that  by  my  sword 
shall  Martino  di  Porto  be  punished  for  his  outrage. 
Fain  would  I,  in  person,  allay  the  tumult,  but  my  pres- 
ence only  seems  to  sanction  it.  Go — thou  hast  weight 
with  them  all." 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES          31 

"  Ay,  signer,  the  weight  of  blows !  "  answered  the 
grim  soldier.  "  But  the  command  is  hard ;  I  would 
fain  let  their  puddle-blood  flow  an  hour  or  two  longer. 
Yet,  pardon  me;  in  obeying  thy  orders,  do  I  obey 
those  of  my  master,  thy  kinsman?  It  is  old  Stephen 
Colonna, — who  seldom  spares  blood  or  treasure,  God 
bless  him — (save  his  own ! ) — whose  money  I  hold, 
and  to  whose  hests  I  am  sworn." 

"  Diavolo !  "  muttered  the  cavalier,  and  the  angry 
spot  was  on  his  cheek ;  but,  with  the  habitual  self-con- 
trol of  the  Italian  nobles,  he  smothered  his  rising 
choler,  and  said  aloud,  with  calmness,  but  dignity, — 

"  Do  as  I  bid  thee ;  check  this  tumult, — make  us  the 
forbearing  party.  Let  all  be  still  within  one  hour 
hence,  and  call  on  me  to-morrow  for  thy  reward;  be 
this  purse  an  earnest  of  my  future  thanks.  As  for 
my  kinsman,  whom  I  command  thee  to  name  more 
reverently,  'tis  in  his  name  I  speak.  Hark!  the  din 
increases — the  contest  swells — go — lose  not  another 
moment." 

Somewhat  awed  by  the  quiet  firmness  of  the  patri- 
cian, Rodolf  nodded,  without  answer,  slid  the  money 
into  his  bosom,  and  stalked  away  into  the  thickest  of 
the  throng.  But,  even  ere  he  arrived,  a  sudden  reac- 
tion had  taken  place. 

The  young  cavalier,  left  alone  in  that  spot,  followed 
with  his  eyes  the  receding  form  of  the  mercenary,  as 
the  sun,  now  setting,  shone  slant  upon  his  glittering 
casque,  and  said  bitterly  to  himself — "  Unfortunate 
city,  fountain  of  all  mighty  memories — fallen  queen  of 
a  thousand  nations — how  art  thou  decrowned  and 
spoiled  by  thy  recreant  and  apostate  children !  Thy 
nobles  divided  against  themselves — thy  people  cursing 
thy  nobles — thy  priests,  who  should  sow  peace,  plant- 


32  RIENZI 

ing  discord — the  father  of  thy  church  deserting  thy 
stately  walls,  his  home  a  refuge,  his  mitre  a  fief,  his 
court  a  Gallic  village — and  we!  we,  of  the  haughtiest 
blood  of  Rome — we,  the  sons  of  Caesars,  and  of  the 
lineage  of  demigods,  guarding  an  insolent  and  ab- 
horred state  by  the  swords  of  hirelings,  who  mock  our 
cowardice  while  they  receive  our  pay, — who  keep  our 
citizens  slaves,  and  lord  it  over  their  very  masters  in 
return !  Oh,  that  we,  the  hereditary  chiefs  of  Rome, 
could  but  feel — oh,  that  we  could  but  find,  our  only 
legitimate  safeguard  in  the  grateful  hearts  of  our 
countrymen ! " 

So  deeply  did  the  young  Adrian  feel  the  galling  truth 
of  all  he  uttered,  that  the  indignant  tears  rolled  down 
his  cheeks  as  he  spoke.  He  felt  no  shame  as  he  dashed 
them  away ;  for  that  weakness  which  weeps  for  a  fallen 
race,  is  the  tenderness  not  of  women  but  of  angels. 

As  he  turned  slowly  to  quit  the  spot,  his  steps  were 
suddenly  arrested  by  a  loud  shout :  "  Rienzi !  Rienzi !  " 
smote  the  air.  From  the  walls  of  the  Capitol  to  the 
bed  of  the  glittering  Tiber,  that  name  echoed  far  and 
wide;  and,  as  the  shout  died  away,  it  was  swallowed 
up  in  a  silence  so  profound,  so  universal,  so  breathless, 
that  you  might  have  imagined  that  death  itself  had 
fallen  over  the  city.  And  now,  at  the  extreme  end  of 
the  crowd,  and  elevated  above  their  level,  on  vast  frag- 
ments of  stone  which  had  been  dragged  from  the  ruins 
of  Rome  in  one  of  the  late  frequent  tumults  between 
contending  factions,  to  serve  as  a  barricade  for  citizens 
against  citizens, — on  these  silent  memorials  of  the  past 
grandeur,  the  present  misery,  of  Rome,  stood  that 
extraordinary  man,  who,  above  all  his  race,  was  the 
most  penetrated  with  the  glories  of  the  one  time,  with 
the  degradation  of  the  other. 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES          33 

From  the  distance  at  which  he  stood  from  the  scene, 
Adrian  could  only  distinguish  the  dark  outline  of 
Rienzi's  form ;  he  could  only  hear  the  faint  sound  of  his 
mighty  voice ;  he  could  only  perceive,  in  the  subdued 
yet  waving  sea  of  human  beings  that  spread  around, 
their  heads  bared  in  the  last  rays  of  the  sun,  the  unut- 
terable effect  which  an  eloquence,  described  by  con- 
temporaries almost  as  miraculous, — but  in  reality  less 
so  from  the  genius  of  the  man  than  the  sympathy  of 
the  audience, — created  in  all,  who  drank  into  their 
hearts  and  souls  the  stream  of  its  burning  thoughts. 

It  was  but  for  a  short  time  that  that  form  was  visible 
to  the  earnest  eye,  that  that  voice  at  intervals  reached 
the  straining  ear,  of  Adrian  di  Castello ;  but  that  time 
sufficed  to  produce  all  the  effect  which  Adrian  him- 
self had  desired. 

Another  shout,  more  earnest,  more  prolonged  than 
the  first — a  shout,  in  which  spoke  the  release  of  swell- 
ing thoughts,  of  intense  excitement — betokened  the 
close  of  the  harangue ;  and  then  you  might  see,  after  a 
minute's  pause,  the  crowd  breaking  in  all  directions, 
and  pouring  down  the  avenues  in  various  knots  and 
groups,  each  testifying  the  strong  and  lasting  impres- 
sion made  upon  the  multitude  by  that  address.  Every 
cheek  was  flushed — every  tongue  spoke:  the  anima- 
tion of  the  orator  had  passed,  like  a  living  spirit,  into 
the  breasts  of  the  audience.  He  had  thundered 
against  the  disorders  of  the  patricians,  yet,  by  a  word, 
he  had  disarmed  the  anger  of  the  plebeians — he  had 
preached  freedom,  yet  he  had  opposed  licence.  He 
had  calmed  the  present,  by  a  promise  of  the  future. 
He  had  chid  their  quarrels,  yet  had  supported  their 
cause.  He  had  mastered  the  revenge  of  to-day,  by  a 
solemn  assurance  that  there  should  come  justice  for 
3 


34  RIENZI 

the  morrow.  So  great  may  be  the  power,  so  mighty 
the  eloquence,  so  formidable  the  genius,  of  one  man, — 
without  arms,  without  rank,  without  sword  or  ermine, 
who  addresses  himself  to  a  people  that  is  oppressed. 


CHAPTER    IV 

AN   ADVENTURE 

Avoiding  the  broken  streams  of  the  dispersed  crowd, 
Adrian  Colonna  strode  rapidly  down  one  of  the  nar- 
row streets  leading  to  his  palace,  which  was  situated 
at  no  inconsiderable  distance  from  the  place  in  which 
the  late  contest  had  occurred.  The  education  of  his 
life  made  him  feel  a  profound  interest,  not  only  in  the 
divisions  and  disputes  of  his  country,  but  also  in  the 
scene  he  had  just  witnessed,  and  the  authority  exer- 
cised by  Rienzi. 

An  orphan  of  a  younger,  but  opulent  branch  of  the 
Colonna,  Adrian  had  been  brought  up  under  the  care 
and  guardianship  of  his  kinsman,  that  astute,  yet 
valiant  Stephen  Colonna,  who,  of  all  the  nobles  of 
Rome,  was  the  most  powerful,  alike  from  the  favour 
of  the  pope,  and  the  number  of  armed  hirelings  whom 
his  wealth  enabled  him  to  maintain.  Adrian  had  early 
manifested  what  in  that  age  was  considered  an  extraor- 
dinary disposition  towards  intellectual  pursuits, '  and 
had  acquired  much  of  the  little  that  was  then  known  of 
the  ancient  language  and  the  ancient  history  of  his 
country. 

Though  Adrian  was  but  a  boy  at  the  time  in  which, 
first  presented  to  the  reader,  he  witnessed  the  emotions 
of  Rienzi  at  the  death  of  his  brother,  his  kind  heart  had 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES          35 

been  penetrated  with  sympathy  for  Cola's  affliction, 
and  shame  for  the  apathy  of  his  kinsmen  at  the  result 
of  their  own  feuds.  He  had  earnestly  sought  the 
friendship  of  Rienzi,  and,  despite  his  years,  had  be- 
come aware  of  the  power  and  energy  of  his  character. 
But  though  Rienzi,  after  a  short  time,  had  appeared  to 
think  no  more  of  his  brother's  death — though  he  again 
entered  the  halls  of  the  Colonna,  and  shared  their  dis- 
dainful hospitalities,  he  maintained  a  certain  distance 
and  reserve  of  manner,  which  even  Adrian  could  only 
partially  overcome.  He  rejected  every  offer  of  serv- 
ice, favour,  or  promotion ;  and  any  unwonted  proof  of 
kindness  from  Adrian  seemed,  instead  of  making  him 
more  familiar,  to  offend  him  into  colder  distance.  The 
easy  humour  and  conversational  vivacity  which  had 
first  rendered  him  a  welcome  guest  with  those  who 
passed  their  lives  between  fighting  and  feasting,  had 
changed  into  a  vein  ironical,  cynical,  and  severe.  But 
the  dull  barons  were  equally  amused  at  his  wit,  and 
Adrian  was  almost  the  only  one  who  detected  the  ser- 
pent couched  beneath  the  smile. 

Often  Rienzi  sat  at  the  feast,  silent,  but  observant, 
as  if  watching  every  look,  weighing  every  word,  taking 
gauge  and  measurement  of  the  intellect,  policy,  tem- 
perament, of  every  guest;  and  when  he  had  seemed 
to  satisfy  himself,  his  spirits  would  rise,  his  words  flow, 
and  while  his  dazzling  but  bitter  wit  lit  up  the  revel, 
none  saw  that  the  unmirthful  flash  was  the  token  of 
the  coming  storm.  But  all  the  while,  he  neglected 
no  occasion  to  mix  with  the  humbler  citizens,  to  stir 
up  their  minds,  to  inflame  their  imaginations,  to  kindle 
their  emulation,  with  pictures  of  the  present  and  with 
legends  of  the  past.  He  grew  in  popularity  and 
repute,  and  was  yet  more  in  power  with  the  herd,  be- 


36  RIENZI 

cause  in  favour  with  the  nobles.  Perhaps  it  was  for 
that  reason  that  he  had  continued  the  guest  of  the 
Colonna. 

When,  six  years  before  the  present  date,  the  Capitol 
of  the  Caesars  witnessed  the  triumph  of  Petrarch,  the 
scholastic  fame  of  the  young  Rienzi  had  attracted 
the  friendship  of  the  poet, — a  friendship  that  con- 
tinued, with  slight  interruption,  to  the  last,  through 
careers  so  widely  different ;  and  afterwards,  one  among 
the  Roman  deputies  to  Avignon,  he  had  been  con- 
joined with  Petrarch  *  to  supplicate  Clement  VI.  to 
remove  the  Holy  See  from  Avignon  to  Rome.  It  was 
in  this  mission  that,  for  the  first  time,  he  evinced  his 
extraordinary  powers  of  eloquence  and  persuasion. 
The  pontiff,  indeed,  more  desirous  of  ease  than  glory, 
was  not  convinced  by  the  arguments,  but  he .  was 
enchanted  with  the  pleader;  and  Rienzi  returned  to 
Rome,  loaded  with  honours,  and  clothed  with  the  dig- 
nity of  high  and  responsible  office.  No  longer  the 
inactive  scholar,  the  gay  companion,  he  rose  at  once 
to  pre-eminence  above  all  his  fellow-citizens.  Never 
before  had  authority  been  borne  with  so  austere  an 
integrity,  so  uncorrupt  a  zeal.  He  had  sought  to  im- 
pregnate his  colleagues  with  the  same  loftiness  of 
principle — he  had  failed.  Now  secure  in  hi$  footing, 
he  had  begun  openly  to  appeal  to  the  people ;  and 
already  a  new  spirit  seemed  to  animate  the  populace 
of  Rome. 

While  these  were  the  fortunes  of  Rienzi,  Adrian  had 
been  long  separated  from  him,  and  absent  from  Rome. 

*  According  to  the  modern  historians;  but  it  seems  more 
probable  that  Rienzi's  mission  to  Avignon  was  posterior  to 
that  of  Petrarch.  However  this  be,  it  was  at  Avignon  that 
Petrarch  and  Rienzi  became  most  intimate,  as  Petrarch  him- 
self observes  in  one  of  his  letters. 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES          37 

The  Colonna  were  staunch  supporters  of  the  im- 
perial party  and  Adrian  di  Castello  had  received  and 
obeyed  an  invitation  to  the  Emperor's  Court.  Under 
that  monarch  he  had  initiated  himself  in  arms,  and, 
among  the  knights  of  Germany,  he  had  learned  to 
temper  the  natural  Italian  shrewdness  with  the  chiv- 
alry of  northern  valour.  ' 

In  leaving  Bavaria,  he  had  sojourned  a  short  time 
in  the  solitude  of  one  of  his  estates  by  the  fairest  lake 
of  northern  Italy;  and  thence,  with  a  mind  improved 
alike  by  action  and  study,  had  visited  many  of  the 
free  Italian  states,  imbibed  sentiments  less  prejudiced 
than  those  of  his  order,  and  acquired  an  early  reputa- 
tion for  himself  while  inly  marking  the  characters  and 
deeds  of  others.  In  him,  the  best  qualities  of  the 
Italian  noble  were  united.  Passionately  addicted  to 
the  cultivation  of  letters,  subtle  and  profound  in  policy, 
gentle  and  bland  of  manner,  dignifying  a  love  of  pleas- 
ure with  a  certain  elevation  of  taste,  he  yet  possessed 
a  gallantry  of  conduct,  and  purity  of  honour,  and  an 
aversion  from  cruelty,  which  were  then  very  rarely 
found  in  the  Italian  temperament,  and  which  even  the 
Chivalry  of  the  North,  while  maintaining  among  them- 
selves, usually  abandoned  the  moment  they  came  into 
contact  with  the  systematic  craft  and  disdain  of  hon- 
esty, which  made  the  character  of  the  ferocious,  yet 
wily,  South.  With  these  qualities,  he  combined,  in- 
deed, the  softer  passions  of  his  countrymen, — he 
adored  Beauty,  and  he  made  a  deity  of  Love. 

He  had  but  a  few  weeks  returned  to  his  native  city, 
whither  his  reputation  had  already  preceded  him,  and 
where  his  early  affection  for  letters  and  gentleness  of 
bearing  were  still  remembered.  He  returned  to  find 
the  position  of  Rienzi  far  more  altered  than  his  own. 


38  RIENZI 

Adrian  had  not  yet  sought  the  scholar.  He  wished 
first  to  judge  with  his  own  eyes,  and  at  a  distance,  of 
the  motives  and  object  of  his  conduct;  for  partly  he 
caught  the  suspicions  which  his  own  order  entertained 
of  Rienzi,  and  partly  he  shared  in  the  trustful  enthu- 
siasm of  the  people. 

"  Certainly,"  said  he  now  to  himself,  as  he  walked 
musingly  onward,  "  certainly,  no  man  has  it  more  in 
his  power  to  reform  6ur  diseased  state,  to  heal  our 
divisions,  to  awaken  our  citizens  to  the  recollections  of 
ancestral  virtue.  But  that  very  power,  how  danger- 
ous is  it !  Have  I  not  seen,  in  the  free  states  oT  Italy, 
men,  called  into  authority  for  the  sake  of  preserving 
the  people,  honest  themselves  at  first,  and  then,  drunk 
with  the  sudden  rank,  betraying  the  very  cause  which 
had  exalted  them?  True,  those  men  were  chiefs  and 
nobles;  but  are  plebeians  less  human?  Howbeit  I 
have  heard  and  seen  enough  from  afar, — I  will  now 
approach,  and  examine  the  man  himself." 

While  thus  soliloquising,  Adrian  but  little  noted  the 
various  passengers,  who,  more  and  more  rarely  as  the 
evening  waned,  hastened  homeward.  Among  these 
were  two  females,  who  now  alone  shared  with  Adrian 
the  long  and  gloomy  street  into  which  he  had  entered. 
The  moon  was  already  bright  in  the  heavens,  and,  as 
the  women  passed  the  cavalier  with  a  light  and  quick 
step,  the  younger  one  turned  back  and  regarded  him 
by  the  clear  light  with  an  eager,  yet  timid  glance. 

"  Why  dost  thou  tremble,  my  pretty  one  ?  "  said  her 
companion,  who  might  have  told  some  five-and-forty 
years,  and  whose  garb  and  voice  bespoke  her  of  in- 
ferior rank  to  the  younger  female.  "  The  streets  seem 
quiet  enough  now,  and,  the  Virgin  be  praised !  we  are 
not  so  far  from  home  either." 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES          39 

"  Oh !  Benedetta,  it  is  he!  it  is  the  young  signer — it 
is  Adrian ! " 

"  That  is  fortunate,"  said  the  nurse,  for  such  was 
her  condition,  "  since  they  say  he  is  as  bold  as  a  North- 
man :  and  as  the  Palazzo  Colonna  is  not  very  far  from 
hence,  we  shall  be  within  reach  of  his  aid  should  we 
want  it:  that  is  to  say,  sweet  one,  if  you  will  walk  a 
little  slower  than  you  have  yet  done." 

The  young  lady  slackened  her  pace,  and  sighed. 

"  He  is  certainly  very  handsome,"  quoth  the  nurse : 
"  but  thou  must  not  think  more  of  him ;  he  is  too  far 
above  thee  for  marriage,  and  for  aught  else,  thou  art 
too  honest,  and  thy  brother  too  proud " 

"  And  thou,  Benedetta,  art  too  quick  with  thy 
tongue.  How  canst  thou  talk  thus,  when  thou  know- 
est  he  hath  never,  since,  at  least,  I  was  a  mere  child, 
even  addressed  me :  nay,  he  scarce  knows  of  my  very 
existence.  He,  the  Lord  Adrian  di  Castello,  dream  of 
the  poor  Irene !  the  mere  thought  is  madness !  " 

"  Then  why,"  said  the  nurse,  briskly,  "  dost  thou 
dream  of  him?  " 

Her  companion  sighed  again  more  deeply  than  at 
first. 

"Holy  St.  Catherine!"  continued  Benedetta,  "if 
there  were  but  one  man  in  the  world,  I  would  die 
single  ere  I  would  think  of  him,  until,  at  least,  he  had 
kissed  my  hand  twice,  and  left  it  my  own  fault  if  it 
were  not  my  lips  instead." 

The  young  lady  still  replied  not. 

"  But  how  didst  thou  contrive  to  love  him?  "  asked 
the  nurse.  "  Thou  canst  not  have  seen  him  very 
often :  it  is  but  some  four  or  five  weeks  since  his  return 
to  Rome." 

"  Oh,  how  dull  art  thou  ?  "  answered  the  fair  Irene. 


40  RIENZI 

"  Have  I  not  told  thee,  again  and  again,  that  I  loved 
him  six  years  ago  ?  " 

"  When  thou  hadst  told  but  thy  tenth  year,  and  a 
doll  would  have  been  thy  most  suitable  lover!  As  I 
am  a  Christian,  Signora,  thou  hast  made  good  use  of 
thy  time." 

"  And  during  his  absence,"  continued  the  girl, 
fondly,  yet  sadly,  "  did  I  not  hear  him  spoken  of,  and 
was  not  the  mere  sound  of  his  name  like  a  love-gift 
that  bade  me  remember?  And  when  they  praised 
him,  have  I  not  rejoiced?  and  when  they  blamed  him, 
have  I  not  resented?  And  when  they  said  that  his 
lance  was  victorious  in  the  tourney,  did  I  not  weep 
with  pride?  and  when  they  whispered  that  his  vows 
were  welcome  in  the  bower,  wept  I  not  as  fervently 
with  grief?  Have  not  the  six  years  of  his  absence 
been  a  dream,  and  was  not  his  return  a  waking  into 
light — a  morning  of  glory  and  the  sun?  And  I  see 
him  now  in  the  church  when  he  wots  not  of  me ;  and 
on  his  happy  steed  as  he  passes  by  my  lattice :  and  is 
not  that  enough  of  happiness  for  love  ?  " 

"  But  if  he  loves  not  thee?  " 

"  Fool !  I  ask  not  that ;  nay,  I  know  not  if  I  wish 
it.  Perhaps  I  would  rather  dream  of  him,  such  as  I 
would  have  him,  than  know  him  for  what  he  is.  He 
might  be  unkind,  or  ungenerous,  or  love  me  but  little ; 
rather  would  I  not  be  loved  at  all,  than  loved  coldly, 
and  eat  away  my  heart  by  comparing  it  with  his.  I 
can  love  him  now  as  something  abstract,  unreal,  and 
divine:  but  what  would  be  my  shame,  my  grief,  if  I 
were  to  find  him  less  than  I  have  imagined !  Then, 
indeed,  my  life  would  have  been  wasted ;  then,  indeed, 
the  beauty  of  the  earth  would  be  gone !  " 

The  good  nurse  was  not  very  capable  of  sympa- 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES          41 

thising  with  sentiments  like  these.  Even  had  their 
characters  been  more  alike,  their  disparity  of  age 
would  have  rendered  such  sympathy  impossible. 
What  but  youth  can  echo  back  the  soul  of  youth — all 
the  music  of  its  wild  vanities  and  romantic  follies? 
The  good  nurse  did  not  sympathise  with  the  sentiments 
of  her  young  lady,  but  she  sympathised  with  the  deep 
earnestness  with  which  they  were  expressed.  She 
thought  it  wondrous  silly,  but  wondrous  moving;  she 
wiped  her  eyes  with  the  corner  of  her  veil,  and  hoped 
in  her  secret  heart  that  her  young  charge  would  soon 
get  a  real  husband  to  put  such  unsubstantial  fantasies 
out  of  her  head.  There  was  a  short  pause  in  their 
conversation,  when,  just  where  two  streets  crossed  one 
another,  there  was  heard  a  loud  noise  of  laughing 
voices  and  trampling  feet.  Torches  were  seen  on  high 
affronting  the  pale  light  of  the  moon ;  and,  at  a  very 
short  distance  from  the  two  females,  in  the  cross  street, 
advanced  a  company  of  seven  or  eight  men,  bearing, 
as  seen  by  the  red  light  of  the  torches,  the  formidable 
badge  of  the  Orsini. 

Amidst  the  other  disorders  of  the  time,  it  was  no 
unfrequent  custom  for  the  younger  or  more  dissolute 
of  the  nobles,  in  small  and  armed  companies,  to  parade 
the  streets  at  night,  seeking  occasion  for  a  licentious 
gallantry  among  the  cowering  citizens,  or  a  skirmish 
at  arms  with  some  rival  stragglers  of  their  own  order. 
Such  a  band  had  Irene  and  her  companion  now 
chanced  to  encounter. 

"  Holy  Mother !  "  cried  Benedetta,  turning  pale,  and 
half  running,  "  what  curse  has  befallen  us  ?  How 
could  we  have  been  so  foolish  as  to  tarry  so  late  at 
the  Lady  Nina's!  Run,  Signora, — run,  or  we  shall 
fall  into  their  hands !  " 


42  RIENZI 

But  the  advice  of  Benedetta  came  too  late, — the  flut- 
tering garments  of  the  women  had  been  already  de- 
scried :  in  a  moment  more  they  were  sourounded  by  the 
marauders.  A  rude  hand  tore  aside  Benedetta's  veil, 
and  at  sight  of  features,  which,  if  time  had  not  spared, 
it  could  never  very  materially  injure,  the  rough  aggres- 
sor cast  the  poor  nurse  against  the  wall  with  a  curse, 
which  was  echoed  by  a  loud  laugh  from  his  comrades. 

"  Thou  hast  a  fine  fortune  in  faces,  Giuseppe !  " 

"  Yes ;  it  was  but  the  other  day  that  he  seized  on  a 
girl  of  sixty." 

"  And  then,  by  way  of  improving  her  beauty,  cut 
her  across  the  face  with  his  dagger,  because  she  was 
not  sixteen ! " 

"  Hush,  fellows !  whom  have  we  here  ?  "  said  the 
chief  of  the  party,  a  man  richly  dressed,  and  who, 
though  bordering  upon  middle  age,  had  only  the  more 
accustomed  himself  to  the  excesses  of  youth;  as  he 
spoke,  he  snatched  the  trembling  Irene  from  the  grasp 
of  his  followers.  "  Ho,  there !  the  torches !  Oh  che 
bella  faccia!  what  blushes — what  eyes! — nay,  look  not 
down,  pretty  one ;  thou  needst  not  be  ashamed  to  win 
the  love  of  an  Orsini — yes ;  know  the  triumph  thou 
hast  achieved — it  is  Martino  di  Porto  who  bids  thee 
smile  upon  him  !  " 

"  For  the  blest  Mother's  sake  release  me !  Nay,  sir, 
this  must  not  be — I  am  not  unfriended — this  insult 
shall  not  pass !  " 

"  Hark  to  her  silver  chiding ;  it  is  better  than  my 
best  hound's  bay !  This  adventure  is  worth  a  month's 
watching.  What!  will  you  not  come? — restive — 
shrieks  too! — Francesco  Pietro,  ye  are  the  gentlest 
of  the  band.  Wrap  her  veil  around  her, — mufrlfe  this 
music ; — so !  bear  her  before  me  to  the  palace,  and  to- 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES          43 

morrow,  sweet  one,  thou  shalt  go  home  with  a  basket 
of  florins  which  thou  mayest  say  thou  hast  bought  at 
market." 

But  Irene's  shrieks,  Irene's  struggles,  had  already 
brought  succour  to  her  side,  and,  as  Adrian  approached 
the  spot,  the  nurse  flung  herself  on  her  knees  before 
him. 

"  Oh,  sweet  signor,  for  Christ's  grace  save  us ! 
deliver  my  young  mistress — her  friends  love  you  well ! 
We  are  all  for  the  Colonna,  my  lord ;  yes,  indeed,  all  for 
the  Colonna !  Save  the  kin  of  your  own  clients,  gra- 
cious signor ! " 

"  It  is  enough  that  she  is  a  woman,"  answered 
Adrian,  adding,  between  his  teeth,  "  and  that  an  Orsini 
is  her  assailant."  He  strode  haughtily  into  the  thickest 
of  the  group ;  the  servitors  laid  hands  on  their  swords, 
but  gave  way  before  him  as  they  recognised  his  per- 
son ;  he  reached  the  two  men  who  had  already  seized 
Irene ;  in  one  moment  he  struck  the  foremost  to  the 
ground,  in  another  he  had  passed  his  left  arm  round 
the  light  and  slender  form  of  the  maiden,  and  stood 
confronting  the  Orsini  with  his  drawn  blade,  which, 
however,  he  pointed  to  the  ground. 

"  For  shame,  my  lord — for  shame !  "  said  he,  indig- 
nantly. "  Will  you  force  Rome  to  rise,  to  a  man, 
against  our  order  ?  Vex  not  too  far  the  lion,  chained 
though  he  be ;  war  against  us  if  ye  will !  draw  your 
blades  upon  men,  though  they  be  of  your  own  race, 
and  speak  your  own  tongue :  but  if  ye  would  sleep  at 
nights,  and  not  dread  the  avenger's  gripe, — if  ye  would 
walk  the  market-place  secure, — wrong  not  a  Roman 
woman !  Yes,  the  very  walls  around  us  preach  to  you 
the  punishment  of  such  a  deed :  for  that  offence  fell  the 
Tarquins, — for  that  offence  were  swept  away  the 


44  RIENZI 

Decemvirs, — for  that  offence,  if  ye  rush  upon  it,  the 
blood  of  your  whole  house  may  flow  like  water.  Cease 
then,  my  lord,  from  this  mad  attempt,  so  unworthy 
your  great  name ;  cease,  and  thank  even  a  Colonna  that 
he  has  come  between  you  and  a  moment's  frenzy !  " 

So  noble,  so  lofty,  were  the  air  and  gesture  of 
Adrian,  as  he  thus  spoke,  that  even  the  rude  servitors 
felt  a  thrill  of  approbation  and  remorse — not  so  Marti- 
no  di  Porto.  He  had  been  struck  with  the  beauty  of  the 
prey  thus  suddenly  snatched  from  him ;  he  had  been 
accustomed  to  long  outrage  and  to  long  impunity ;  the 
very  sight,  the  very  voice  of  a  Colonna,  was  a  blight  to 
his  eye,  and  a  discord  to  his  ear :  what,  then,  when  a 
Colonna  interfered  with  his  lusts  and  rebuked  his  vices? 

"  Pedant !  "  he  cried,  with  quivering  lips,  "  prate  not 
to  me  of  thy  vain  legends  and  gossip's  tales !  think  not 
to  snatch  from  me  my  possession  in  another,  when 
thine  own  life  is  in  my  hands.  Unhand  the  maiden ! 
throw  down  thy  sword !  return  home  without  further 
parley,  or,  by  my  faith,  and  the  blades  of  my  follow- 
ers— (look  at  them  well) — thou  diest !  " 

"  Signor,"  said  Adrian,  calmly,  yet  while  he  spoke 
he  retreated  gradually  with  his  fair  burthen  towards 
the  neighbouring  wall,  so  as  at  least  to  leave  only  his 
front  exposed  to  those  fearful  odds :  "  Thou  wilt  not 
so  misuse  the  present  chances,  and  wrong  thyself  in 
men's  mouths,  as  to  attack  with  eight  swords  even  thy 
hereditary  foe,  thus  cumbered,  too,  as  he  is.  But — 
nay  hold ! — if  thou  art  so  proposed,  bethink  thee  well, 
one  cry  of  my  voice  would  soon  turn  the  odds  against 
thee.  Thou  art  now  in  the  quarter  of  my  tribe ;  thou 
art  surrounded  by  the  habitations  of  the  Colonna :  yon 
palace  swarms  with  men  who  sleep  not,  save  with  har- 
ness on  their  backs;  men  whom  my  voice  can  reach 


For  shame,  my  lord,  for  shame." 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES          45 

even  now,  but  from  whom,  if  they  once  taste  of  blood, 
it  could  not  save  thee !  " 

"  He  speaks  true,  noble  Lord,"  said  one  of  the  band  : 
"  we  have  wandered  too  far  out  of  our  beat ;  we  are  in 
their  very  den ;  the  palace  of  old  Stephen  Colonna  is 
within  call :  and,  to  my  knowledge,"  added  he,  in  a 
whisper,  "  eighteen  fresh  men-of-arms — ay,  and  North- 
men too — marched  through  its  gates  this  day." 

"  Were  there  eight  hundred  men  at  arm's  length," 
answered  Martino,  furiously,  "  I  would  not  be  thus 
bearded  amidst  mine  own  train !  Away  with  yon 
woman  !  To  the  attack !  to  the  attack  !  " 

Thus  saying,  he  made  a  desperate  lunge  at  Adrian, 
who,  having  kept  his  eye  cautiously  on  the  movements 
of  his  enemy,  was  not  unprepared  for  the  assault.  As 
he  put  aside  the  blade  with  his  own,  he  shouted  with 
a  loud  voice — "  Colonna !  to  the  rescue,  Colonna !  " 

Nor  had  it  been  without  an  ulterior  object  that  the 
acute  and  self-controlling  mind  of  Adrian  had  hitherto 
sought  to  prolong  the  parley.  Even  as  he  first  ad- 
dressed Orsini,  he  had  perceived,  by  the  moonlight, 
the  glitter  of  armour  upon  two  men  advancing  from 
the  far  end  of  the  street,  and  judged  at  once,  by  the 
neighbourhood,  that  they  must  be  among  the  mer- 
cenaries of  the  Colonna. 

Gently  he  suffered  the  form  of  Irene,  which  now,  for 
she  had  swooned  with  the  terror,  pressed  too  heavily 
upon  him,  to  slide  from  his  left  arm,  and  standing  over 
her  form  while  sheltered  from  behind  by  the  wall 
which  he  had  so  warily  gained,  he  contented  himself 
with  parrying  the  blows  hastily  aimed  at  him,  without 
attempting  to  retaliate.  Few  of  the  Romans,  how- 
ever accustomed  to  such  desultory  warfare,  were  then 
well  and  dexterously  practised  in  the  use  of  arms ; 


46  RIENZI 

and  the  science  Adrian  had  acquired  in  the  schools  of 
the  martial  north,  befriended  him  now,  even  against 
such  odds.  It  is  true,  indeed,  that  the  followers  of 
Orsini  did  not  share  the  fury  of  their  lord ;  partly 
afraid  of  the  consequences  to  themselves  should  the 
blood  of  so  high-born  a  signor  be  spilt  by  their  hands, 
partly  embarrassed  with  the  apprehension  that  they 
should  see  themselves  suddenly  beset  with  the  ruthless 
hirelings  so  close  within  hearing,  they  struck  but  aim- 
less and  random  blows,  looking  every  moment  behind 
and  aside,  and  rather  prepared  for  flight  than  slaugh- 
ter. Echoing  the  cry  of  "  Colonna,"  poor  Benedetta 
fled  at  the  first  clash  of  swords.  She  ran  down  the 
dreary  street  still  shrieking  that  cry,  and  passed  the 
very  portals  of  Stephen's  palace  (where  some  grim 
forms  yet  loitered)  without  arresting  her  steps  there, 
so  great  were  her  confusion  and  terror. 

Meanwhile,  the  two  armed  men,  whom  Adrian  had 
descried,  proceeded  leisurely  up  the  street.  The  one 
was  of  a  rude  and  common  mould,  his  arms  and  his 
complexion  testified  his  calling  and  race ;  and  by  the 
great  respect  he  paid  to  his  companion,  it  was  evi- 
dent that  that  companion  was  no  native  of  Italy.  For 
the  brigands  of  the  north,  while  they  served  the  vices 
of  the  southern,  scarce  affected  to  disguise  their  con- 
tempt for  his  cowardice. 

The  companion  of  the  brigand  was  a  man  of  a  mar- 
tial, yet  easy  air.  He  wore  no  helmet,  but  a  cap  of 
crimson  velvet,  set  off  with  a  white  plume ;  on  his 
mantle,  or  surcoat,  which  was  of  scarlet,  was  wrought 
a  broad  white  cross,  both  at  back  and  breast ;  and  so 
brilliant  was  the  polish  of  his  corselet,  that,  as  from 
time  to  time  the  mantle  waved  aside  and  exposed  it 
to  the  moonbeams,  it  glittered  like  light  itself. 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES          47 

"  Nay,  Rodolf,"  said  he,  "  if  thou  hast  so  good  a  lot 
of  it  here  with  that  hoary  schemer,  Heaven  forbid  that 
I  should  wish  to  draw  thee  back  again  to  our  merry 
band.  But  tell  me — this  Rienzi — thinkest  thou  he  has 
any  solid  and  formidable  power?" 

"  Pshaw !  noble  chieftain,  not  a  whit  of  it.  He 
pleases  the  mob ;  but  as  for  the  nobles,  they  laugh  at 
him ;  and,  as  for  the  soldiers,  he  has  no  money !  " 

"  He  pleases  the  mob,  then !  " 

"  Ay,  that  doth  he ;  and  when  he  speaks  aloud  to 
them,  all  the  roar  of  Rome  is  hushed." 

"  Humph ! — when  nobles  are  hated,  and  soldiers  are 
bought,  a  mob  may,  in  any  hour,  become  the  master. 
An  honest  people  and  a  weak  mob, — a  corrupt  people 
and  a  strong  mob,"  said  the  other,  rather  to  himself 
than  to  his  comrade,  and  scarce,  perhaps,  conscious  of 
the  eternal  truth  of  his  aphorism.  "  He  is  no  mere 
brawler,  this  Rienzi,  I  suspect — I  must  see  to  it.  Hark ! 
what  noise  is  that?  By  the  Holy  Sepulchre,  it  is  the 
ring  of  our  own  metal !  " 

"  And  that  cry — '  a  Colonna ! '  "  exclaimed  Rodolf. 
"  Pardon  me,  master, — I  must  away  to  the  rescue !  " 

"  Ay,  it  is  the  duty  of  thy  hire ; — run ;  yet  stay,  I 
will  accompany  thee,  gratis  for  once,  and  from  pure 
passion  for  mischief.  By  this  hand,  there  is  no  music 
like  clashing  steel !  " 

Still  Adrian  continued  gallantly  and  unwounded  to 
defend  himself,  though  his  arm  now  grew  tired,  his 
breath  well-nigh  spent,  and  his  eyes  began  to  wink 
and  reel  beneath  the  glare  of  the  tossing  torches. 
Orsini  himself,  exhausted  by  his  fury,  had  paused  for 
an  instant,  fronting  his  foe  with  a  heaving  breast  and 
savage  looks,  when,  suddenly,  his  followers  exclaimed, 
"  Fly  !  fly ! — the  bandits  approach — we  are  sur- 


48  RIENZI 

rounded ! "  and  two  of  the  servitors,  without  further 
parley,  took  fairly  to  their  heels.  The  other  five 
remained  irresolute,  and  waiting  but  the  command  of 
their  master,  when  he  of  the  white  plume,  whom  I 
have  just  described,  thrust  himself  into  the  melee. 

"  What !  gentles,"  said  he,  "  have  ye  finished 
already  ?  Nay,  let  us  not  mar  the  sport ;  begin  again, 
I  beseech  you.  What  are  the  odds  ?  Ho  !  six  to  one  ! 
— nay,  no  wonder  that  ye  have  waited  for  fairer  play. 
See,  we  too  will  take  the  weaker  side.  Now  then,  let 
us  begin  again." 

"  Insolent ! "  cried  the  Orsini.  "  Knowest  thou 
him  whom  thou  addressest  thus  arrogantly? — I  am 
Martino  di  Porto.  Who  art  thou  ?  " 

"  Walter  de  Montreal,  gentleman  of  Provence,  and 
Knight  of  St.  John ! "  answered  the  other,  carelessly. 

At  that  redoubted  name — the  name  of  one  of  the 
boldest  warriors,  and  of  the  most  accomplished  free- 
booter of  his  time — even  Martino's  cheek  grew  pale, 
and  his  followers  uttered  a  cry  of  terror. 

"  And  this,  my  comrade,"  continued  the  Knight, 
"  for  we  may  as  well  complete  the  introduction,  is 
probably  better  known  to  you  than  I  am,  gentles  of 
Rome ;  and  you  doubtless  recognise  in  him  Rodolf  of 
Saxony,  a  brave  man  and  a  true,  where  he  is  properly 
paid  for  his  services.  " 

"  Signer,"  said  Adrian  to  his  enemy,  who,  aghast 
and  dumb,  remained  staring  vacantly  at  the  two  new- 
comers, "  you  are  now  in  my  power.  See  our  own 
people,  too,  are  approaching." 

And,  indeed,  from  the  palace  of  Stephen  Colonna, 
torches  began  to  blaze,  and  armed  men  were  seen  rap- 
idly advancing  to  the  spot. 

"  Go  home  in  peace,  and  if,  to-morrow,  or  any  day 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES          49 

more  suitable  to  thee,  thou  wilt  meet  me  alone,  and 
lance  to  lance,  as  is  the  wont  of  the  knights  of  the 
empire;  or  with  band  to  band,  and  man  for  man,  as 
is  rather  the  Roman  custom ;  I  will  not  fail  thee — 
there  is  my  gage." 

"  Nobly  spoken,"  said  Montreal ;  "  and,  if  ye  choose 
the  latter,  by  your  leave,  I  will  be  one  of  the  party." 

Martino  answered  not ;  he  took  up  the  glove,  thrust 
it  in  his  bosom,  and  strode  hastily  away;  only,  when 
he  had  got  some  paces  down  the  street,  he  turned  back, 
and,  shaking  his  clenched  hand  at  Adrian,  exclaimed, 
in  a  voice  trembling  with  impotent  rage — "Faithful 
to  death ! " 

The  words  made  one  of  the  mottoes  of  the  Orsini ; 
and,  whatever  its  earlier  signification,  had  long  passed 
into  a  current  proverb,  to  signify  their  hatred  to  the 
Colonna. 

Adrian,  now  engaged  in  raising,  and  attempting  to 
revive  Irene,  who  was  still  insensible,  disdainfully  left 
it  to  Montreal  to  reply. 

"  I  doubt  not,  Signer,"  said  the  latter,  coolly,  "  that 
thou  wilt  be  faithful  to  Death :  for  Death,  God  wot, 
is  the  only  contract  which  men,  however  ingenious, 
are  unable  to  break  or  evade." 

"  Pardon  me,  gentle  Knight,"  said  Adrian,  looking 
up  from  his  charge,  "  if  I  do  not  yet  give  myself  wholly 
to  gratitude.  I  have  learned  enough  of  knighthood 
to  feel  thou  wilt  acknowledge  that  my  first  duty  is 
here—" 

"  Oh,  a  lady,  then,  was  the  cause  of  the  quarrel !  I 
need  not  ask  who  was  in  the  right,  when  a  man  brings 
to  the  rivalry  such  odds  as  yon  caitiff." 

"  Thou  mistakest  a  little,  Sir  Knight, — it  is  but  a 
lamb  I  have  rescued  from  the  wolf." 


50  RIENZI 

"  For  thy  own  table !  Be  it  so !  "  returned  the 
Knight,  gaily. 

Adrian  smiled  gravely,  and  shook  his  head  in  denial. 
In  truth,  he  was  somewhat  embarrassed  by  his  situa- 
tion. Though  habitually  gallant,  he  was  not  willing 
to  expose  to  misconstruction  the  disinterestedness  of 
his  late  conduct,  and  (for  it  was  his  policy  to  conciliate 
popularity)  to  sully  the  credit  which  his  bravery  would 
give  him  among  the  citizens,  by  conveying  Irene 
(whose  beauty,  too,  as  yet  he  had  scarcely  noted)  to 
his  own  dwelling;  and  yet,  in  her  present  situation, 
there  was  no  alternative.  She  evinced  no  sign  of  life. 
He  knew  not  her  home,  nor  parentage.  Benedetta 
had  vanished.  He  could  not  leave  her  in  the  streets ; 
he  could  not  resign  her  to  the  care  of  another;  and, 
as  she  lay  now  upon  his  breast,  he  felt  her  already 
endeared  to  him,  by  that  sense  of  protection  which  is 
so  grateful  to  the  human  heart.  He  briefly,  therefore, 
explained  to  those  now  gathered  round  him,  his  pres- 
ent situation,  and  the  cause  of  the  past  conflict;  and 
bade  the  torch-bearers  precede  him  to  his  home. 

"  You,  Sir  Knight,"  added  he,  turning  to  Montreal, 
"  if  not  already  more  pleasantly  lodged,  will,  I  trust, 
deign  to  be  my  guest  ?  " 

"  Thanks,  Signer,"  answered  Montreal,  maliciously, 
"  but  I,  also,  perhaps,  have  my  own  affairs  to  watch 
over.  Adieu!  I  shall  seek  you  at  the  earliest  occa- 
sion. Fair  night,  and  gentle  dreams ! 

'  Robers  Bertrams  qui  estoit  tors 
Mais  a  ceval  estoit  mult  fors 
Cil  avoit  o  lui  grans  effors 
Multi  ot  'homes  per  lui  mors.'  "  * 

*  "  An  ill-favoured  man,  but  a  stout  horseman,  was  Robert 
Bertram.  Great  deeds  were  his,  and  many  a  man  died  by 
his  hand." 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES          51 

And,  muttering  this  rugged  chant  from  the  old  "  Ro- 
man de  Rou,"  the  Provengal,  followed  by  Rodolf,  pur- 
sued his  way. 

The  vast  extent  of  Rome,  and  the  thinness  of  its 
population,  left  many  of  the  streets  utterly  deserted. 
The  principal  nobles  were  thus  enabled  to  possess 
themselves  of  a  wide  range  of  buildings,  which  they 
fortified,  partly  against  each  other,  partly  against  the 
people ;  their  numerous  relatives  and  clients  lived 
around  them,  forming,  as  it  were,  petty  courts  and 
cities  in  themselves. 

Almost  opposite  to  the  principal  palace  of  the 
Colonna  (occupied  by  his  powerful  kinsman,  Stephen) 
was  the  mansion  of  Adrian.  Heavily  swung  back  the 
massive  gates  at  his  approach ;  he  ascended  the  broad 
staircase,  and  bore  his  charge  into  an  apartment  which 
his  tastes  had  decorated  in  a  fashion  not  as  yet  com- 
mon in  that  age.  Ancient  statues  and  busts  were 
arranged  around ;  the  pictured  arras  of  Lombardy  dec- 
orated the  walls,  and  covered  the  massive  seats. 

"  What  ho !  Lights  here,  and  wine ! "  cried  the 
Seneschal. 

"  Leave  us  alone,"  said  Adrian,  gazing  passionately 
on  the  pale  cheek  of  Irene,  as  he  now,  by  the  clear 
light,  beheld  all  its  beauty;  and  a  sweet  yet  burning 
hope  crept  into  his  heart. 


RIENZI 


CHAPTER   V 

THE  DESCRIPTION  OF  A  CONSPIRATOR,  AND  THE  DAWN 
OF  THE  CONSPIRACY 

Alone,  by  a  table  covered  with  various  papers,  sat 
a  man  in  the  prime  of  life.  The  chamber  was  low  and 
long;  many  antique  and  disfigured  bas-reliefs  and 
torsos  were  placed  around  the  wall,  interspersed,  here 
and  there,  with  the  short  sword  and  close  casque,  time- 
worn  relics  of  the  prowess  of  ancient  Rome.  Right 
above  the  table  at  which  he  sate,  the  moonlight 
streamed  through  a  high  and  narrow  casement,  deep 
sunk  in  the  massy  wall.  In  a  niche  to  the  right  of 
this  window,  guarded  by  a  sliding  door,  which  was 
now  partially  drawn  aside — but  which,  by  its  solid 
substance,  and  the  sheet  of  iron  with  which  it  was 
plated,  testified  how  valuable,  in  the  eyes  of  the  owner, 
was  the  treasure  it  protected — were  ranged  some  thirty 
or  forty  volumes,  then  deemed  no  inconsiderable 
library ;  and  being,  for  the  most  part,  the  laborious 
copies  in  manuscript  by  the  hand  of  the  owner,  from 
immortal  originals. 

Leaning  his  cheek  on  his  hand,  his  brow  somewhat 
knit,  his  lip  slightly  compressed,  that  personage 
indulged  in  meditations  far  other  than  the  indolent 
dreams  of  scholars.  As  the  high  and  still  moonlight 
shone  upon  his  countenance,  it  gave  an  additional  and 
solemn  dignity  to  features  which  were  naturally  of  a 
grave  and  majestic  cast.  Thick  and  auburn  hair,  the 
colour  of  which,  not  common  to  the  Romans,  was 
ascribed  to  his  descent  from  the  Teuton  emperor,  clus- 
tered in  large  curls  above  a  high  and  expansive  fore- 


53 

head ;  and  even  the  present  thoughtful  compression  of 
the  brow  could  not  mar  the  aspect  of  latent  power, 
which  is  derived  from  that  great  breadth  between  the 
eyes,  in  which  the  Grecian  sculptors  of  old  so  admi- 
rably conveyed  the  expression  of  authority,  and  the 
silent  energy  of  command.  But  his  features  were  not 
cast  in  the  Grecian,  still  less  in  the  Teuton  mould. 
The  iron  jaw,  the  aquiline  nose,  the  somewhat  sunken 
cheek,  strikingly  recalled  the  character  of  the  hard 
Roman  race,  and  might  not  inaptly  have  suggested 
to  a  painter  a  model  for  the  younger  Brutus. 

The  marked  outline  of  the  face,  and  the  short,  firm 
upper  lip,  were  not  concealed  by  the  beard  and  mus- 
tachios  usually  then  worn ;  and,  in  the  faded  portrait 
of  the  person  now  described,  still  extant  at  Rome,  may 
be  traced  a  certain  resemblance  to  the  popular  pic- 
tures of  Napoleon ;  not  indeed  in  the  features,  which 
are  more  stern  and  prominent  in  the  portrait  of  the 
Roman,  but  in  that  peculiar  expression  of  concen- 
trated and  tranquil  power  which  so  nearly  realises  the 
ideal  of  intellectual  majesty.  Though  still  young,  the 
personal  advantages  most  peculiar  to  youth, — the 
bloom  and  glow,  the  rounded  cheek  in  which  care 
has  not  yet  ploughed  its  lines,  the  full  unsunken  eye, 
and  the  slender  delicacy  of  frame, — these  were  not  the 
characteristics  of  that  solitary  student.  And,  though 
considered  by  his  contemporaries  as  eminently  hand- 
some, the  judgment  was  probably  formed  less  from 
the  more  vulgar  claims  to  such  distinction,  than  from 
the  height  of  the  stature,  an  advantage  at  that  time 
more  esteemed  than  at  present,  and  that  nobler  order 
of  beauty  which  cultivated  genius  and  commanding 
character  usually  stamp  upon  even  homely  features ; — 
the  more  rare  in  an  age  so  rugged. 


54  RIENZI 

The  character  of  Rienzi  (for  the  youth  presented  to 
the  reader  in  the  first  chapter  of  this  history  is  now 
again  before  him  in  maturer  years)  had  acquired 
greater  hardness  and  energy  with  each  stepping-stone 
to  power.  There  was  a  circumstance  attendant  on  his 
birth  which  had,  probably,  exercised  great  and  early 
influence  on  his  ambition.  Though  his  parents  were 
in  humble  circumstances,  and  of  lowly  calling,  his 
father  was  the  natural  son  of  the  Emperor,  Henry 
VII. ;  *  and  it  was  the  pride  of  the  parents  that  prob- 
ably gave  to  Rienzi  the  unwonted  advantages  of  edu- 
cation. This  pride  transmitted  to  himself, — his  de- 
scent from  royalty  dinned  into  his  ear,  infused  into 
his  thoughts,  from  his  cradle, — made  him,  even  in  his 
earliest  youth,  deem  himself  the  equal  of  the  Roman 
signers,  and  half  unconsciously  aspire  to  be  their 
superior.  But,  as  the  literature  of  Rome  was 
unfolded  to  his  eager  eye  and  ambitious  heart,  he 
became  imbued  with  that  pride  of  country  which  is 
nobler  than  the  pride  of  birth;  and,  save  when  stung 
by  allusions  to  his  origin,  he  unaffectedly  valued  him- 
self more  on  being  a  Roman  plebeian  than  the 
descendant  of  a  Teuton  king.  His  brother's  death, 
and  the  vicissitudes  he  himself  had  already  undergone, 
deepened  the  earnest  and  solemn  qualities  of  his  char- 
acter ;  and,  at  length,  all  the  faculties  of  a  very  uncom- 
mon intellect  were  concentrated  into  one  object — 

*  De  Sade  supposes  that  the  mother  of  Rienzi  was  the 
daughter  of  an  illegitimate  son  of  Henry  VII.,  supporting  his 
opinion  from  a  MS.  in  the  Vatican.  But,  according  to  the 
contemporaneous  biographer,  Rienzi,  in  addressing  Charles, 
king  of  Bohemia,  claims  the  relationship  from  his  father. 
"  Di  vostro  legnaggio  sono — figlio  di  bastardo  d' Enrico  im- 
peratore,"  &c.  A  more  recent  writer,  il  Padre  Gabrini,  cites 
an  inscription  in  support  of  this  descent:  "  Nicolaus  Tribu- 
nus  .  .  .  Laurentii  Teutoniei  Filius,"  &c. 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES          55 

which  borrowed  from  a  mind  strongly  and  mystically 
religious,  as  well  as  patriotic,  a  sacred  aspect,  and 
grew  at  once  a  duty  and  a  passion. 

"  Yes,"  said  Rienzi,  breaking  suddenly  from  his 
reverie,  "  yes,  the  day  is  at  hand  when  Rome  shall  rise 
again  from  her  ashes ;  Justice  shall  dethrone  Oppres- 
sion ;  men  shall  walk  safe  in  their  ancient  Forum.  We 
will  rouse  from  his  forgotten  tomb  the  indomitable 
soul  of  Cato !  There  shall  be  a  people  once  more  in 
Rome !  And  I — I  shall  be  the  instrument  of  that 
triumph — the  restorer  of  my  race !  mine  shall  be  the 
first  voice  to  swell  the  battle-cry  of  freedom — mine 
the  first  hand  to  rear  her  banner — yes,  from  the  height 
of  my  own  soul  as  from  a  mountain,  I  see  already 
rising  the  liberties  and  the  grandeur  of  the  New  Rome ; 
and  on  the  corner-stone  of  the  mighty  fabric  posterity 
shall  read  my  name." 

Uttering  these  lofty  boasts,  the  whole  person  of 
the  speaker  seemed  instinct  with  his  ambition.  He 
strode  the  gloomy  chamber  with  light  and  rapid  steps, 
as  if  on  air;  his  breast  heaved,  his  eyes  glowed.  He 
felt  that  love  itself  can  scarcely  bestow  a  rapture  equal 
to  that  which  is  felt,  in  his  first  virgin  enthusiasm,  by 
a  patriot  who  knows  himself  sincere! 

There  was  a  slight  knock  at  the  door,  and  a  servi- 
tor, in  the  rich  liveries  worn  by  the  Pope's  officials,* 
presented  himself. 

"  Signer,"  said  he,  "  my  Lord,  the  Bishop  of  Orvi- 
etto,  is  without." 

"  Ha !  that  is  fortunate.  Lights  there ! — My  Lord, 
this  is  an  honour  which  I  can  estimate  better  than 
express."  •„ 

*  Not  the  present  hideous  habiliments  which  are  said  to 
have  been  the  invention  of  Michael  Angelo. 


56  RIENZI 

"  Tut,  tut !  my  good  friend/'  said  the  Bishop,  enter- 
ing, and  seating  himself  familiarly,  "  no  ceremonies 
between  the  servants  of  the  Church  ;  and  never,  I  ween 
well,  had  she  greater  need  of  true  friends  than  now. 
These  unholy  tumults,  these  licentious  contentions,  in 
the  very  shrines  and  city  of  St.  Peter,  are  sufficient  to 
scandalise  all  Christendom." 

"  And  so  will  it  be,"  said  Rienzi,  "  until  his  Holiness 
himself  shall  be  graciously  persuaded  to  fix  his  resi- 
dence in  the  seat  of  his  predecessors,  and  curb  with 
a  strong  arm  the  excesses  of  the  nobles." 

"  Alas,  man !  "  said  the  Bishop,  "  thou  knowest  that 
these  words  are  but  as  wind;  for  were  the  Pope  to 
fulfil  thy  wishes,  and  remove  from  Avignon  to  Rome, 
by  the  blood  of  St.  Peter!  he  would  not  curb  the 
nobles,  but  the  nobles  would  curb  him.  Thou  know- 
est well  that  until  his  blessed  predecessor,  of  pious 
memory,  conceived  the  wise  design  of  escaping  to 
Avignon,  the  Father  of  the  Christian  world  was  but 
like  many  other  fathers  in  their  old  age,  controlled  and 
guarded  by  his  rebellious  children.  Recollectest  thou 
not  how  the  noble  Boniface  himself,  a  man  of  great 
heart,  and  nerves  of  iron,  was  kept  in  thraldom  by  the 
ancestors  of  the  Orsini — his  entrances  and  exits  made 
but  at  their  will — so  that,  like  a  caged  eagle,  he  beat 
himself  against  his  bars  and  died  ?  Verily,  thou  talkest 
of  the  memories  of  Rome — these  are  not  the  memories 
that  are  very  attractive  to  popes." 

"  Well,"  said  Rienzi,  laughing  gently,  and  drawing 
his  seat  nearer  to  the  Bishop's,  "  my  Lord  has  cer- 
tainly the  best  of  the  argument  at  present ;  and  I  must 
own,  that  strong,  licentious,  and  unhallowed  as  the 
order  of  nobility  was  then,  it  is  yet  more  so  now." 

"  Even  I,"  rejoined  Raimond,  colouring  as  he  spoke, 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES          57 

"  though  Vicar  of  the  Pope,  and  representative  of  his 
spiritual  authority,  was,  but  three  days  ago,  subjected 
to  a  coarse  affront  from  that  very  Stephen  Colonna, 
who  has  ever  received  such  favour  and  tenderness 
from  the  Holy  See.  His  servitors  jostled  mine  in  the 
open  streets,  and  I  myself — I,  the  delegate  of  the  sire 
of  kings — was  forced  to  draw  aside  to  the  wall,  and 
wait  until  the  hoary  insolent  swept  by.  Nor  were  blas- 
pheming words  wanting  to  complete  the  insult.  '  Par- 
don, Lord  Bishop,'  said  he,  as  he  passed  me ;  '  but  this 
world,  thou  knowest,  must  necessarily  take  precedence 
of  the  other.'  " 

"  Dared  he  so  high?  "  said  Rienzi,  shading  his  face 
with  his  hand,  as  a  very  peculiar  smile — scarcely  itself 
joyous,  though  it  made  others  gay,  and  which  com- 
pletely changed  the  character  of  his  face,  naturally 
grave  even  to  sternness — played  round  his  lips. 

"  Then  it  is  time  for  thee,  holy  father,  as  for  us, 
«  »» 

"  To  what  ? "  interrupted  the  Bishop,  quickly. 
"  Can  we  effect  aught !  Dismiss  thy  enthusiastic 
dreamings — descend  to  the  real  earth — look  soberly 
round  us.  Against  men  so  powerful,  what  can  we 
do?" 

"  My  Lord,"  answered  Rienzi,  gravely,  "  it  is  the 
misfortune  of  signers  of  your  rank  never  to  know  the 
people,  or  the  accurate  signs  of  the  time.  As  those 
who  pass  over  the  heights  of  mountains  see  the  clouds 
sweep  below,  veiling  the  plains  and  valleys  from  their 
gaze,  while  they,  only  a  little  above  the  level,  survey 
the  movements  and  the  homes  of  men ;  even  so  from 
your  lofty  eminence  ye  behold  but  the  indistinct  and 
sullen  vapours — while  from  my  humbler  station  I  see 
the  preparations  of  the  shepherds,  to  shelter  them- 


58  RIENZI 

selves  and  herds  from  the  storm  which  those  clouds 
betoken.  Despair  not,  my  Lord ;  endurance  goes  but 
to  a  certain  limit — to  that  limit  it  is  already  stretched ; 
Rome  waits  but  the  occasion  (it  will  soon  come,  but 
not  suddenly)  to  rise  simultaneously  against  her 
oppressors." 

The  great  secret  of  eloquence  is  to  be  in  earnest — 
the  great  secret  of  Rienzi's  eloquence  was  in  the 
mightiness  of  his  enthusiasm.  He  never  spoke  as  one 
who  doubted  of  success.  Perhaps,  like  most  men  who 
undertake  high  and  great  actions,  he  himself  was 
never  thoroughly  aware  of  the  obstacles  in  his  way. 
He  saw  the  end,  bright  and  clear,  and  overleaped,  in 
the  vision  of  his  soul,  the  crosses  and  the  length  of 
the  path ;  thus  the  deep  convictions  of  his  own  mind 
stamped  themselves  irresistibly  upon  others.  He 
seemed  less  to  promise  than  to  prophesy. 

The  Bishop  of  Orvietto,  not  over-wise,  yet  a  man 
of  cool  temperament  and  much  worldly  experience, 
was  forcibly  impressed  by  the  energy  of  his  com- 
panion ;  perhaps,  indeed,  the  more  so,  inasmuch  as  his 
own  pride  and  his  own  passions  were  also  enlisted 
against  the  arrogance  and  licence  of  the  nobles.  He 
paused  ere  he  replied  to  Rienzi. 

"  But  is  it,"  he  asked,  at  length,  "  only  the  plebeians 
who  will  rise  ?  Thou  knowest  how  they  are  caitiff  and 
uncertain." 

"  My  Lord,"  answered  Rienzi,  "  judge,  by  one  fact, 
how  strongly  I  am  surrounded  by  friends  of  no  com- 
mon class :  thou  knowest  how  loudly  I  speak  against 
the  nobles — I  cite  them  by  their  name — I  beard  the 
Savelli,  the  Orsini,  the  Colonna,  in  their  very  hearing. 
Thinkest  thou  that  they  forgive  me?  thinkest  thou 
that,  were  only  the  plebeians  my  safeguard  and  my 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES          59 

favourers,  they  would  not  seize  me  by  open  force, — 
that  I  had  not  long  ere  this  found  a  gag  in  their 
dungeons,  or  been  swallowed  up  in  the  eternal  dumb- 
ness of  the  grave  ?  Observe,"  continued  he,  as,  read- 
ing the  Vicar's  countenance,  he  perceived  the  impres- 
sion he  had  made — "  observe,  that,  throughout  the 
whole  world,  a  great  revolution  has  begun.  The  bar- 
baric darkness  of  centuries  has  been  broken;  the 
KNOWLEDGE  which  made  men  as  demigods  in  the  past 
time  has  been  called  from  her  urn;  a  Power,  subtler 
than  brute  force,  and  mightier  than  armed  men,  is  at 
work ;  we  have  begun  once  more  to  do  homage  to  the 
Royalty  of  Mind.  Yes,  that  same  Power  which,  a 
few  years  ago,  crowned  Petrarch  in  the  Capitol,  when 
it  witnessed,  after  the  silence  of  twelve  centuries,  the 
glories  of  a  TRIUMPH, — which  heaped  upon  a  man  of 
obscure  birth,  and  unknown  in  arms,  the  same 
honours  given  of  old  to  emperors  and  the  vanquishers 
of  kings, — which  united  in  one  act  of  homage  even  the 
rival  houses  of  Colonna  and  Orsini, — which  made  the 
haughtiest  patricians  emulous  to  bear  the  train,  to 
touch  but  the  purple  robe  of  the  son  of  the  Florentine 
plebeian, — which  still  draws  the  eyes  of  Europe  to  the 
lowly  cottage  of  Vaucluse, — which  gives  to  the  hum- 
ble student  the  all-acknowledged  licence  to  admonish 
tyrants,  and  approach,  with  haughty  prayers,  even  the 
Father  of  the  Church ; — yes,  that  same  Power,  which, 
working  silently  throughout  Italy,  murmurs  under  the 
solid  base  of  the  Venetian  oligarchy ;  *  which,  beyond 
the  Alps,  has  wakened  into  visible  and  sudden  life  in 
Spain,  in  Germany,  in  Flanders ;  and  which,  even  in 

*  It  was  about  eight  years  afterwards  that  the  long-smoth- 
ered hate  of  the  Venetian  people  to  that  wisest  and  most 
vigilant  of  all  oligarchies,  the  Sparta  of  Italy,  broke  out  in 
the  conspiracy  under  Marino  Faliero. 


60  RIENZI 

that  barbarous  Isle,  conquered  by  the  Norman  sword, 
ruled  by  the  bravest  of  living  kings,*  has  roused  a 
spirit  Norman  cannot  break — kings  to  rule  over  must 
rule  by — yes,  that  same  Power  is  everywhere  abroad : 
it  speaks,  it  conquers  in  the  voice  even  of  him  who 
is  before  you ;  it  unites  in  his  cause  all  on  whom  but 
one  glimmering  of  light  has  burst,  all  in  whom  one 
generous  desire  can  be  kindled!  Know,  Lord  Vicar, 
that  there  is  not  a  man  in  Rome,  save  our  oppressors 
themselves — not  a  man  who  has  learned  one  syllable 
of  our  ancient  tongue — whose  heart  and  sword  are  not 
with  me.  The  peaceful  cultivators  of  letters — the 
proud  nobles  of  the  second  order — the  rising  race, 
wiser  than  their  slothful  sires ;  above  all,  my  Lord, 
the  humbler  ministers  of  religion,  priests  and  monks, 
whom  luxury  hath  not  blinded,  pomp  hath  not  deaf- 
ened, to  the  monstrous  outrage  to  Christianity  daily 
and  nightly  perpetrated  in  the  Christian  Capital ;  these, 
— all  these, — are  linked  with  the  merchant  ami  the 
artisan  in  one  indissoluble  bond,  waiting  but  the  signal 
to  fall  or  to  conquer,  to  live  freemen,  or  to  die  martyrs, 
with  Rienzi  and  their  country !  " 

"  Sayest  thou  so  in  truth  ?  "  said  the  Bishop,  startled, 
and  half  rising.  "  Prove  but  thy  words,  and  thou 
shalt  not  find  the  ministers  of  God  are  less  eager  than 
their  lay  brethren  for  the  happiness  of  men." 

"  What  I  say,"  rejoined  Rienzi,  in  a  cooler  tone, 
"  that  can  I  show !  but  I  may  only  prove  it  to  those 
who  will  be  with  us." 


*  Edward  III.,  in  whose  reign  opinions  far  more  popular 
than  those  of  the  following  century  began  to  work.  The  Civil 
Wars  threw  back  the  action  into  the  blood.  It  was  indeed  an 
age  throughout  the  world  which  put  forth  abundant  blos- 
soms, but  crude  and  unripened  fruit; — a  singular  leap,  fol- 
lowed by  as  singular  a  pause. 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES          61 

"  Fear  me  not,"  answered  Raimond :  "  I  know  well 
the  secret  mind  of  his  Holiness,  whose  delegate  and 
representative  I  am ;  and  could  he  see  but  the  legiti- 
mate and  natural  limit  set  to  the  power  of  the  patri- 
cians, who,  in  their  arrogance,  have  set  at  nought  the 
authority  of  the  Church  itself,  be  sure  that  he  would 
smile  on  the  hand  that  drew  the  line.  Nay,  so  certain 
of  this  am  I,  that  if  ye  succeed,  I,  his  responsible  but 
unworthy  vicar,  will  myself  sanction  the  success.  But 
beware  of  crude  attempts;  the  Church  must  not  be 
weakened  by  linking  itself  to  failure." 

"  Right,  my  Lord,"  answered  Rienzi ;  "  and  in  this, 
the  policy  of  religion  is  that  of  freedom.  Judge  of  my 
prudence  by  my  long  delay.  He  who  can  see  all 
around  him  impatient — himself  not  less  so — and  yet 
suppress  the  signal,  and  bide  the  hour,  is  not  likely  to 
lose  his  cause  by  rashness." 

"  More,  then,  of  this  anon,"  said  the  Bishop,  reset- 
tling himself  in  his  seat.  "  As  thy  plans  mature,  fear 
not  to  communicate  with  me.  Believe  that  Rome  has 
no  firmer  friend  than  he  who,  ordained  to  preserve 
order,  finds  himself  impotent  against  aggression. 
Meanwhile,  to  the  object  of  my  present  visit,  which 
links  itself,  in  some  measure,  perhaps,  with  the  topics 
on  which  we  have  conversed  ....  Thou  knowest 
that  when  his  Holiness  intrusted  thee  with  thy  present 
office,  he  bade  thee  also  announce  his  beneficent  inten- 
tion of  granting  a  general  Jubilee  at  Rome  for  the  year 
1350 — a  most  admirable  design  for  two  reasons,  suf- 
ficiently apparent  to  thyself :  first,  that  every  Christian 
soul  that  may  undertake  the  pilgrimage  to  Rome  on 
that  occasion,  may  thus  obtain  a  general  remission  of 
sins ;  and  secondly,  because,  to  speak  carnally,  the  con- 
course of  pilgrims  so  assembled,  usually,  by  the  dona- 


62  RIENZI 

tions  and  offerings  their  piety  suggests,  very  materially 
add  to  the  revenues  of  the  Holy  See :  at  this  time, 
by  the  way,  in  no  very  flourishing  condition.  This 
thou  knowest,  dear  Rienzi." 

Rienzi  bowed  his  head  in  assent,  and  the  prelate 
continued — 

"  Well,  it  is  with  the  greatest  grief  that  his  Holiness 
perceives  that  his  pious  intentions  are  likely  to  be  frus- 
trated :  for  so  fierce  and  numerous  are  now  the  brig- 
ands in  the  public  approaches  to  Rome,  that,  verily, 
the  boldest  pilgrim  may  tremble  a  little  to  undertake 
the  journey ;  and  those  who  do  so  venture  will,  prob- 
ably, be  composed  of  the  poorest  of  the  Christian  com- 
munity,— men  who,  bringing  with  them  neither  gold, 
nor  silver,  nor  precious  offerings,  will  have  little  to 
fear  from  the  rapacity  of  the  brigands.  Hence  arise 
two  consequences :  on  the  one  hand,  the  rich — whom, 
Heaven  knows,  and  the  Gospel  has,  indeed,  expressly 
declared,  have  the  most  need  of  a  remission  of  sins — 
will  be  deprived  of  this  glorious  occasion  for  absolu- 
tion ;  and,  on  the  other  hand,  the  coffers  of  the  Church 
will  be  impiously  defrauded  of  that  wealth  which  it 
would  otherwise  doubtless  obtain  from  the  zeal  of  her 
children." 

"  Nothing  can  be  more  logically  manifest,  my 
Lord,"  said  Rienzi. 

The  Vicar  continued — "  Now,  in  letters  received 
five  days  since  from  his  Holiness,  he  bade  me  expose 
these  fearful  consequences  to  Christianity  to  the  vari- 
ous patricians  who  are  legitimately  fiefs  of  the  Church, 
and  command  their  resolute  combination  against  the 
marauders  of  the  road.  With  these  have  I  conferred, 
and  vainly." 

"  For  by  the  aid,  and  from  the  troops,  of  those  very 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES          63 

brigands,  these  patricians  have  fortified  their  palaces 
against  each  other,"  added  Rienzi. 

"  Exactly  for  that  reason,"  rejoined  the  Bishop. 
"  Nay,  Stephen  Colonna  himself  had  the  audacity  to 
confess  it.  Utterly  unmoved  by  the  loss  to  so  many 
precious  souls,  and,  I  may  add,  to  the  papal  treasury, 
which  ought  to  be  little  less  dear  to  right-discerning 
men,  they  refuse  to  advance  a  step  against  the  bandits. 
Now,  then,  hearken  the  second  mandate  of  his  Holi- 
ness : — '  Failing  the  nobles,'  saith  he,  in  his  prophetic 
sagacity,  '  confer  with  Cola  di  Rienzi.  He  is  a  bold 
man,  and  a  pious,  and,  thou  tellest  me,  of  great  weight 
with  the  people;  and  say  to  him,  that  if  his  wit  can 
devise  the  method  for  extirpating  these  sons  of  Belial, 
and  rendering  a  safe  passage  along  the  public  ways, 
largely,  indeed,  will  he  merit  at  our  hands, — lasting 
will  be  the  gratitude  we  shall  owe  to  him ;  and  what- 
ever succour  thou,  and  the  servants  of  our  See,  can 
render  to  him,  let  it  not  be  stinted.'  " 

"  Said  his  Holiness  thus !  "  exclaimed  Rienzi.  "  I 
ask  no  more — the  gratitude  is  mine  that  he  hath 
thought  thus  of  his  servant,  and  intrusted  me  with  this 
charge ;  at  once  I  accept  it — at  once  I  pledge  myself 
to  success.  Let  us,  my  Lord,  let  us,  then,  clearly 
understand  the  limits  ordained  to  my  discretion.  To 
curb  the  brigands  without  the  walls,  I  must  have  au- 
thority over  those  within.  If  I  undertake,  at  peril  of 
my  life,  to  clear  all  the  avenues  to  Rome  of  the  rob- 
bers who  now  infest  it,  shall  I  have  full  licence  for 
conduct  bold,  peremptory,  and  severe?  " 

"  Such  conduct  the  very  nature  of  the  charge  de- 
mands," replied  Raimond. 

"  Ay — even  though  it  be  exercised  against  the 
arch  offenders — against  the  supporters  of  the  brig- 


64  RIENZI 

ands — against  the  haughtiest  of  the  nobles  them- 
selves? " 

The  Bishop  paused,  and  looked  hard  in  the  face  of 
the  speaker.  "  I  repeat,"  said  he,  at  length,  sinking 
his  voice,  and  with  a  significant  tone,  "  in  these  bold 
attempts,  success  is  the  sole  sanction.  Succeed,  and 
we  will  excuse  thee  all — even  to  the " 

"  Death  of  a  Colonna  or  an  Orsini,  should  justice 
demand  it;  and  provided  it  be  according  to  the  law, 
and  only  incurred  by  the  violation  of  the  law !  "  added 
Rienzi,  firmly. 

The  Bishop  did  not  reply  in  words,  but  a  slight 
motion  of  his  head  was  sufficient  answer  to  Rienzi. 

"  My  Lord,"  said  he,  "  from  this  time,  then,  all  is 
well ;  I  date  the  revolution — the  restoration  of  order, 
of  the  state — from  this  hour,  this  very  conference.  Till 
now,  knowing  that  justice  must  never  wink  upon  great 
offenders,  I  had  hesitated,  through  fear  lest  thou  and 
his  Holiness  might  deem  it  severity,  and  blame  him 
who  replaces  the  law,  because  he  smites  the  violators 
of  law.  Now  I  judge  ye  more  rightly.  Your  hand, 
my  Lord." 

The  Bishop  extended  his  hand ;  Rienzi  grasped  it 
firmly,  and  then  raised  it  respectfully  to  his  lips.  Both 
felt  that  the  compact  was  sealed. 

This  conference,  so  long  in  recital,  was  short  in  the 
reality ;  but  its  object  was  already  finished,  and  the 
Bishop  rose  to  depart.  The  outer  portal  of  the  house 
was  opened,  the  numerous  servitors  of  the  Bishop  held 
on  high  their  torches,  and  he  had  just  turned  from 
Rienzi,  who  had  attended  him  to  the  gate,  when  a 
female  passed  hastily  through  the  Prelate's  train,  and 
starting  as  she  beheld  Rienzi,  flung  herself  at  his 
feet. 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES          65 

"  Oh,  hasten,  Sir !  hasten,  for  the  love  of  God, 
hasten !  or  the  young  Signora  is  lost  for  ever !  " 

"  The  Signora ! — Heaven  and  earth,  Benedetta,  of 
whom  do  you  speak? — of  my  sister — of  Irene?  is  she 
not  within  ?  " 

"  Oh,  Sir— the  Orsini— the  Orsini !  " 

"  What  of  them  ? — speak,  woman !  " 

Here,  breathlessly,  and  with  many  a  break,  Bene- 
detta recounted  to  Rienzi,  in  whom  the  reader  has 
already  recognised  the  brother  of  Irene,  so  far  of  the 
adventure  with  Martino  di  Porto  as  she  had  witnessed : 
of  the  termination  and  result  of  the  contest  she  knew 
nought. 

Rienzi  listened  in  silence ;  but  the  deadly  paleness  of 
his  countenance,  and  the  writhing  of  the  nether  lip, 
testified  the  emotions  to  which  he  gave  no  audible 
vent. 

"  You  hear,  my  Lord  Bishop — you  hear,"  said  he, 
when  Benedetta  had  concluded;  and  turning  to  the 
Bishop,  whose  departure  the  narrative  had  delayed— 
"  you  hear  to  what  outrage  the  citizens  of  Rome  are 
subjected.  My  hat  and  sword !  instantly !  My  Lord, 
forgive  my  abruptness." 

"  Whither  art  thou  bent,  then  ?  "  asked  Raimond. 

"  Whither — whither ! — Ay,  I  forgot,  my  Lord,  you 
have  no  sister.  Perhaps,  too,  you  had  no  brother? — 
No,  no ;  one  victim  at  least  I  will  live  to  save. 
Whither,  you  ask  me? — to  the  palace  of  Martino  di 
Porto." 

"  To  an  Orsini  alone,  and  for  justice  ?  " 

"  Alone,  and  for  justice! — No !  "  shouted  Rienzi,  in 
a  loud  voice,  as  he  seized  his  sword,  now  brought  to 
him  by  one  of  his  servants,  and  rushed  from  the  house ; 
"  but  one  man  is  sufficient  for  revenge! " 
5 


66  RIENZI 

The  Bishop  paused  for  a  moment's  deliberation. 
"  He  must  not  be  lost,"  muttered  he,  "  as  he  well  may 
be,  if  exposed  thus  solitary  to  the  wolf's  rage.  What, 
ho !  "  he  cried  aloud ;  "  advance  the  torches ! — quick, 
quick!  We  ourself — we,  the  Vicar  of  the  Pope — will 
see  to  this.  Calm  yourselves,  good  people ;  your 
young  Signora  shall  be  restored.  On!  to  the  palace 
of  Martino  di  Porto !  " 


CHAPTER   VI 

IRENE    IN    THE   PALACE    OF   ADRIAN    DI    CASTELLO 

As  the  Cyprian  gazed  on  the  image  in  which  he  had 
embodied  a  youth  of  dreams,  what  time  the  living  hues 
flushed  slowly  beneath  the  marble, — so  gazed  the 
young  and  passionate  Adrian  upon  the  form  reclined 
before  him,  re-awakening  gradually  to  life.  And,  if 
the  beauty  of  that  face  were  not  of  the  loftiest  or  the 
most  dazzling  order,  if  its  soft  and  quiet  character 
might  be  outshone  by  many,  of  loveliness  less  really 
perfect,  yet  never  was  there  a  countenance  that,  to 
some  eyes,  would  have  seemed  more  charming,  and 
never  one  in  which  more  eloquently  was  wrought  that 
ineffable  and  virgin  expression  which  Italian  art  seeks 
for  in  its  models, — in  which  modesty  is  the  outward, 
and  tenderness  the  latent,  expression ;  the  bloom  of 
youth,  both  of  form  and  heart,  ere  the  first  frail  and 
delicate  freshness  of  either  is  brushed  away :  and  when 
even  love  itself,  the  only  unquiet  visitant  that  should 
be  known  at  such  an  age,  is  but  a  sentiment,  and  not 
a  passion ! 

"  Benedetta ! "  murmured  Irene,  at  length  opening 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES          67 

her  eyes,  unconsciously,  upon  him  who  knelt  beside 
her, — eyes  of  that  uncertain,  that  most  liquid  hue,  on 
which  you  might  gaze  for  years  and  never  learn  the 
secret  of  the  colour,  so  changed  it  with  the  dilating 
pupil, — darkening  in  the  shade,  and  brightening  into 
azure  in  the  light : 

"  Benedetta,"  said  Irene,  "where  art  thou?  Oh, 
Benedetta !  I  have  had  such  a  dream." 

"  And  /,  too,  such  a  vision !  "  thought  Adrian. 

"  Where  am  I  ?  "  cried  Irene,  rising  from  the  couch. 
"  This  room — these  hangings — Holy  Virgin !  do  I 
dream  still ! — and  you !  Heavens ! — it  is  the  Lord 
Adrian  di  Castello !  " 

"Is  that  a  name  thou  hast  been  taught  to  fear?" 
said  Adrian ;  "  if  so,  I  will  forswear  it." 

If  Irene  now  blushed  deeply,  it  was  not  in  that  wild 
delight  with  which  her  romantic  heart  might  have  fore- 
told that  she  would  listen  to  the  first  words  of  homage 
from  Adrian  di  Castello.  Bewildered  and  confused, — 
terrified  at  the  strangeness  of  the  place,  and  shrink- 
ing even  from  the  thought  of  finding  herself  alone  with 
one  who  for  years  had  been  present  to  her  fancies, — 
alarm  and  distress  were  the  emotions  she  felt  the  most, 
and  which  most  were  impressed  upon  her  speaking 
countenance ;  and  as  Adrian  now  drew  nearer  to  her, 
despite  the  gentleness  of  his  voice  and  the  respect  of 
his  looks,  her  fears,  not  the  less  strong  that  they  were 
vague,  increased  upon  her :  she  retreated  to  the  further 
end  of  the  room,  looked  wildly  round  her,  and  then, 
covering  her  face  with  her  hands,  burst  into  a  paroxysm 
of  tears. 

Moved  himself  by  these  tears,  and  divining  her 
thoughts,  Adrian  forgot  for  a  moment  all  the  more 
daring  wishes  he  had  formed. 


68  RIENZI 

"  Fear  not,  sweet  lady,"  said  he  earnestly :  "  recol- 
lect thyself,  I  beseech  thee ;  no  peril,  no  evil  can  reach 
thee  here ;  it  was  this  hand  that  saved  thee  from  the 
outrage  of  the  Orsini — this  roof  is  but  the  shelter  of  a 
friend !  Tell  me,  then,  fair  wonder,  thy  name  and  res- 
idence, and  I  will  summon  my  servitors,  and  guard 
thee  to  thy  home  at  once." 

Perhaps  the  relief  of  tears,  even  more  than  Adrian's 
words,  restored  Irene  to  herself,  and  enabled  her  to 
comprehend  her  novel  situation ;  and  as  her  senses, 
thus  cleared,  told  her  what  she  owed  to  him  whom  her 
dreams  had  so  long  imaged  as  the  ideal  of  all  excel- 
lence, she  recovered  her  self-possession,  and  uttered 
her  thanks  with  a  grace  not  the  less  winning,  if  it  still 
partook  of  embarrassment. 

"  Thank  me  not,"  answered  Adrian,  passionately. 
"  I  have  touched  thy  hand — I  am  repaid.  Repaid ! 
nay,  all  gratitude — all  homage  is  for  me  to  render !  " 

Blushing  again,  but  with  far  different  emotions  than 
before,  Irene,  after  a  momentary  pause,  replied,  "  Yet, 
my  Lord,  I  must  consider  it  a  debt  the  more  weighty 
that  you  speak  of  it  so  lightly.  And  now,  complete  the 
obligation.  I  do  not  see  my  companion — suffer  her 
to  accompany  me  home ;  it  is  but  a  short  way  hence." 

"  Blessed,  then,  is  the  air  that  I  have  breathed  so 
unconsciously !  "  said  Adrian.  "  But  thy  companion, 
dear  lady,  is  not  here.  She  fled,  I  imagine,  in  the  con- 
fusion of  the  conflict ;  and  not  knowing  thy  name,  nor 
being  able,  in  thy  then  state,  to  learn  it  from  thy  lips, 
it  was  my  happy  necessity  to  convey  thee  hither; — 
but  I  will  be  thy  companion.  Nay,  why  that  timid 
glance?  my  people,  also,  shall  attend  us." 

"  My  thanks,  noble  Lord,  are  of  little  worth ;  my 
brother,  who  is  not  unknown  to  thee,  will  thank  thee 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES          69 

more  fittingly.  May  I  depart  ? "  and  Irene,  as  she 
spoke,  was  already  at  the  door. 

"  Art  thou  so  eager  to  leave  me  ?  "  answered  Adrian, 
sadly.  "  Alas !  when  thou  hast  departed  from  my 
eyes,  it  will  seem  as  if  the  moon  had  left  the  night ! — 
but  it  is  happiness  to  obey  thy  wishes,  even  though 
they  tear  thee  from  me." 

A  slight  smile  parted  Irene's  lips,  and  Adrian's  heart 
beat  audibly  to  himself,  as  he  drew  from  that  smile, 
and  those  downcast  eyes,  no  unfavourable  omen. 

Reluctantly  and  slowly  he  turned  towards  the  door, 
and  summoned  his  attendants.  "  But,"  said  he,  as 
they  stood  on  the  lofty  staircase,  "  thou  sayest,  sweet 
lady,  that  thy  brother's  name  is  not  unknown  to  me. 
Heaven  grant  that  he  be,  indeed,  a  friend  of  the 
Colonna !  " 

"  His  boast,"  answered  Irene,  evasively ;  "  the  boast 
of  Cola  di  Rienzi  is,  to  be  a  friend  to  the  friends  of 
Rome." 

"  Holy  Virgin  of  Ara  Coeli ! — is  thy  brother  that 
extraordinary  man  ?  "  exclaimed  Adrian,  as  he  fore- 
saw, at  the  mention  of  that  name,  a  barrier  to  his  sud- 
den passion.  "  Alas !  in  a  Colonna,  in  a  noble,  he  will 
see  no  merit ;  even  though  thy  fortunate  deliverer, 
sweet  maiden,  sought  to  be  his  early  friend !  " 

"  Thou  wrongest  him  much,  my  Lord,"  returned 
Irene,  warmly ;  "  he  is  a  man  above  all  others  to  sym- 
pathise with  thy  generous  valour,  even  had  it  been 
exerted  in  defence  of  the  humblest  woman  in  Rome, — 
how  much  more,  then,  when  in  protection  of  his 
sister !  " 

"  The  times  are,  indeed,  diseased,"  answered  Adrian, 
thoughtfully,  as  they  now  found  themselves  in  the 
open  street,  "  when  men  who  alike  mourn  for  the  woes 


70  RIENZI 

of  their  country  are  yet  suspicious  of  each  other :  when 
to  be  a  patrician  is  to  be  regarded  as  an  enemy  to  the 
people;  when  to  be  termed  the  friend  of  the  people 
is  to  be  considered  a  foe  to  the  patricians :  but  come 
what  may,  oh !  let  me  hope,  dear  lady,  that  no  doubts, 
no  divisions,  shall  banish  from  thy  breast  one  gentle 
memory  of  me !  " 

"  Ah !  little,  little  do  you  know  me ! "  began  Irene, 
and  stopped  suddenly  short. 

"  Speak !  speak  again  ! — of  what  music  has  this  en- 
vious silence  deprived  my  soul !  Thou  wilt  not,  then, 
forget  me  ?  And,"  continued  Adrian,  "  we  shall  meet 
again  ?  It  is  to  Rienzi's  house  we  are  bound  now ;  to- 
morrow I  shall  visit  my  old  companion, — to-morrow  I 
shall  see  thee.  Will  it  not  be  so?  " 

In  Irene's  silence  was  her  answer. 

"  And  as  thou  hast  told  me  thy  brother's  name, 
make  it  sweet  to  my  ear,  and  add  to  it  thine  own." 

"  They  call  me  Irene." 

"  Irene,  Irene ! — let  me  repeat  it.  It  is  a  soft  name, 
and  dwells  upon  the  lips  as  if  loath  to  leave  them — 
a  fitting  name  for  one  like  thee." 

Thus  making  his  welcome  court  to  Irene,  in  that 
flowered  and  glowing  language  which,  if  more  pecul- 
iar to  that  age  and  to  the  gallantry  of  the  south,  is 
also  the  language  in  which  the  poetry  of  youthful  pas- 
sion would,  in  all  times  and  lands,  utter  its  rich  extrav- 
agance, could  heart  speak  to  heart,  Adrian  conveyed 
homeward  his  beautiful  charge,  taking,  however,  the 
most  circuitous  and  lengthened  route ;  an  artifice 
which  Irene  either  perceived  not,  or  silently  forgave. 
They  were  now  within  sight  of  the  street  in  which 
Rienzi  dwelt,  when  a  party  of  men,  bearing  torches, 
came  unexpectedly  upon  them.  It  was  the  train  of 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES          71 

the  Bishop  of  Orvietto,  returning  from  the  palace  of 
Martino  di  Porto,  and  in  their  way  (accompanied  by 
Rienzi)  to  that  of  Adrian.  They  had  learned  at  the 
former,  without  an  interview  with  the  Orsini,  from 
the  retainers  in  the  court  below,  the  fortune  of  the 
conflict,  and  the  name  of  Irene's  champion ;  and, 
despite  Adrian's  general  reputation  for  gallantry, 
Rienzi  knew  enough  of  his  character,  and  the  noble- 
ness of  his  temper,  to  feel  assured  that  Irene  was  safe 
in  his  protection. "  Alas !  in  that  very  safety  to  the  per- 
son is  often  the  most  danger  to  the  heart.  Woman 
never  so  dangerously  loves,  as  when  he  who  loves  her, 
for  her  sake,  subdues  himself. 

Clasped  to  her  brother's  breast,  Irene  bade  him 
thank  her  deliverer;  and  Rienzi,  with  that  fascinating 
frankness  which  sits  so  well  on  those  usually  reserved, 
and  which  all  who  would  rule  the  hearts  of  their  fel- 
low-men must  at  times  command,  advanced  to  the 
young  Colonna,  and  poured  forth  his  gratitude  and 
praise. 

"  We  have  been  severed  too  long, — we  must  know 
each  other  again,"  replied  Adrian.  "  I  shall  seek  thee, 
ere  long,  be  assured." 

Turning  to  take  his  leave  of  Irene,  he  conveyed  her 
hand  to  his  lips,  and  pressing  it,  as  it  dropped  from 
his  clasp,  was  he  deceived  in  thinking  that  those  deli- 
cate fingers  lightly,  involuntarily,  returned  the  pres- 
sure? 


72  RIENZI 


CHAPTER   VII 

UPON    LOVE   AND    LOVERS 

If,  in  adopting  the  legendary  love-tale  of  Romeo 
and  Juliet,  Shakespeare  had  changed  the  scene  in 
which  it  is  cast  for  a  more  northern  clime,  we  may 
doubt  whether  the  art  of  Shakespeare  himself  could 
have  reconciled  us  at  once  to  the  suddenness  and  the 
strength  of  Juliet's  passion.  And  even  as  it  is,  per- 
haps there  are  few  of  our  rational  and  sober-minded 
islanders  who  would  not  honestly  confess,  it  fairly 
questioned,  that  they  deem  the  romance  and  fervour 
of  those  ill-starred  lovers  of  Verona  exaggerated  and 
over-drawn.  Yet  in  Italy,  the  picture  of  that  affec- 
tion born  of  a  night — but  "  strong  as  death  " — is  one 
to  which  the  veriest  commonplaces  of  life  would 
afford  parallels  without  number.  As  in  different  ages, 
so  in  different  climes,  love  varies  wonderfully  in  the 
shapes  it  takes.  And  even  at  this  day,  beneath  Italian 
skies,  many  a  simple  girl  would  feel  as  Juliet,  and 
many  a  homely  gallant  would  rival  the  extravagance 
of  Romeo.  Long  suits  in  that  sunny  land,  wherein, 
as  whereof,  I  now  write,  are  unknown.  In  no  other 
land,  perhaps,  is  there  found  so  commonly  the  love  at 
first  sight,  which  in  France  is  a  jest,  and  in  England 
a  doubt ;  in  no  other  land,  too,  is  love,  though  so 
suddenly  conceived,  more  faithfully  preserved.  That 
which  is  ripened  in  fancy  comes  at  once  to  passion, 
yet  is  embalmed  through  all  time  by  sentiment.  And 
this  must  be  my  and  their  excuse,  if  the  love  of  Adrian 
seem  too  prematurely  formed,  and  that  of  Irene  too 
romantically  conceived; — it  is  the  excuse  which  they 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES          73 

take  from  the  air  and  sun,  from  the  customs  of  their 
ancestors,  from  the  soft  contagion  of  example.  But 
while  they  yielded  to  the  dictates  of  their  hearts,  it 
was  with  a  certain  though  secret  sadness — a  presenti- 
ment that  had,  perhaps,  its  charm,  though  it  was  of 
cross  and  evil.  Born  of  so  proud  a  race,  Adrian  could 
scarcely  dream  of  marriage  with  the  sister  of  a  ple- 
beian ;  and  Irene,  'unconscious  of  the  future  glory  of 
her  brother,  could  hardly  have  cherished  any  hope, 
save  that  of  being  loved.  Yet  these  adverse  circum- 
stances, which,  in  the  harder,  the  more  prudent,  the 
more  self-denying,  perhaps  the  more  virtuous  minds, 
that  are  formed  beneath  the  northern  skies,  would 
have  been  an  inducement  to  wrestle  against  love  so 
placed,  only  contributed  to  feed  and  to  strengthen 
theirs  by  an  opposition  which  has  ever  its  attraction 
for  romance.  They  found  frequent,  though  short, 
opportunities  of  meeting — not  quite  alone,  but  only  in 
the  conniving  presence  of  Benedetta :  sometimes  in 
the  public  gardens,  sometimes  amidst  the  vast  and 
deserted  ruins  by  which  the  house  of  Rienzi  was  sur- 
rounded. They  surrendered  themselves,  without  much 
question  of  the  future,  to  the  excitement — the  elysium 
— of  the  hour :  they  lived  but  from  day  to  day ;  their 
future  was  the  next  time  they  should  meet ;  beyond 
that  epoch,  the  very  mists  of  their  youthful  love  closed 
in  obscurity  and  shadow  which  they  sought  not  to  pen- 
etrate :  and  as  yet  they  had  not  arrived  at  that  period 
of  affection  when  there  was  danger  of  their  fall, — their 
love  had  not  passed  the  golden  portal  where  Heaven 
ceases  and  Earth  begins.  Everything  for  them  was 
the  poetry,  the  vagueness,  the  refinement, — not  the 
power,  the  concentration,  the  mortality, — of  desire. 
The  look — the  whisper — the  brief  pressure  of  the 


74  RIENZI 

hand, — at  most,  the  first  kisses  of  love,  rare  and  few, — 
these  marked  the  human  limits  of  that  sentiment  which 
filled  them  with  a  new  life,  which  elevated  them  as 
with  a  new  soul. 

The  roving  tendencies  of  Adrian  were  at  once  fixed 
and  centered ;  the  dreams  of  his  tender  mistress  had 
awakened  to  a  life  dreaming  still,  but  "  rounded  with  a 
truth"  All  that  earnestness,  and  energy,  and  fervour 
of  emotion*  which,  in  her  brother,  broke  forth  in  the 
schemes  of  patriotism  and  the  aspirations  of  power, 
were,  in  Irene,  softened  down  into  one  object  of  exist- 
ence, one  concentration  of  soul, — and  that  was  love. 
Yet,  in  this  range  of  thought  and  action,  so  apparently 
limited,  there  was,  in  reality,  no  less  boundless  a 
sphere  than  in  the  wide  space  of  her  brother's  many- 
pathed  ambition.  Not  the  less  had  she  the  power  and 
scope  for  all  the  loftiest  capacities  granted  to  our  clay. 
Equal  was  her  enthusiasm  for  her  idol ;  equal,  had  she 
been  equally  tried,  would  have  been  her  generosity, 
her  devotion : — greater,  be  sure,  her  courage ;  more 
inalienable  her  worship  ;  more  unsullied  by  selfish  pur- 
poses and  sordid  views.  Time,  change,  misfortune, 
ingratitude,  would  have  left  her  the  same!  What 
state  could  fall,  what  liberty  decay,  if  the  zeal  of  man's 
noisy  patriotism  were  as  pure  as  the  silent  loyalty  of  a 
woman's  love? 

In  them  everything  was  young! — the  heart  un- 
chilled,  unblighted, — that  fulness  and  luxuriance  of 
life's  life  which  has  in  it  something  of  divine.  At  that 
age,  when  it  seems  as  if  we  could  never  die,  how  death- 
less, how  flushed  and  mighty  as  with  the  youngness 
of  a  god,  is  all  that  our  hearts  create!  Our  own 
youth  is  like  that  of  the  earth  itself,  when  it  peopled 
the  woods  and  waters  with  divinities;  when  life  ran 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES          75 

riot,  and  yet  only  gave  birth  to  beauty; — all  its 
shapes,  of  poetry, — all  its  airs,  the  melodies  of 
Arcady  and  Olympus !  The  Golden  Age  never  leaves 
the  world :  it  exists  still,  and  shall  exist,  till  love, 
health,  poetry,  are  no  more;  but  only  for  the 
young ! 

If  I  now  dwell,  though  but  for  a  moment,  on  this 
interlude  in  a  drama  calling  forth  more  masculine  pas- 
sions than  that  of  love,  it  is  because  I  foresee  that  the 
occasion  will  but  rarely  recur.  If  I  linger  on  the 
description  of  Irene  and  her  hidden  affection,  rather 
than  wait  for  circumstances  to  portray  them  better 
than  the  author's  words  can,  it  is  because  I  foresee 
that  that  loving  aqd  lovely  image  must  continue  to  the 
last  rather  a  shadow  than  a  portrait, — thrown  in  the 
background,  as  is  the  real  destiny  of  such  natures,  by 
bolder  figures  and  more  gorgeous  colours ;  a  some- 
thing whose  presence  is  rather  felt  than  seen,  and 
whose  very  harmony  with  the  whole  consists  in  its 
retiring  and  subdued  repose. 


CHAPTER    VIII 

THE     ENTHUSIASTIC     MAN     JUDGED     BY     THE 
DISCREET    MAN 

"  Thou  wrongest  me,"  said  Rienzi,  warmly,  to 
Adrian,  as  they  sat  alone,  towards  the  close  of  a  long 
conference ;  "  I  do  not  play  the  part  of  a  mere  dema- 
gogue ;  I  wish  not  to  stir  the  great  deeps  in  order  that 
my  lees  of  fortune  may  rise  to  the  surface.  So  long 
have  I  brooded  over  the  past,  that  it  seems  to  me  as 
if  I  had  become  a  part  of  it — as  if  I  had  no  separate 


76  RIENZI 

existence.  I  have  coined  my  whole  soul  into  one 
master  passion, — and  its  end  is  the  restoration  of 
Rome." 

"  But  by  what  means?  " 

"  My  Lord !  my  Lord !  there  is  but  one  way  to 
restore  the  greatness  of  a  people — it  is  an  appeal  to  the 
people  themselves.  It  is  not  in  the  power  of  princes 
and  barons  to  make  a  state  permanently  glorious  ;  they 
raise  themselves,  but  they  raise  not  the  people  with 
them.  All  great  regenerations  are  the  universal  move- 
ment of  the  mass." 

"  Nay,"  answered  Adrian,  "  then  have  we  read  his- 
tory differently.  To  me,  all  great  regenerations  seem 
to  have  been  the  work  of  the  few,  and  tacitly  accepted 
by  the  multitude.  But  let  us  not  dispute  after  the 
manner  of  the  schools.  Thou  sayest  loudly  that  a  vast 
crisis  is  at  hand  ;  that  the  Good  Estate  (buono  stato)  shall 
be  established.  How?  where  are  your  arms? — your 
soldiers  ?  Are  the  nobles  less  strong  than  heretofore  ? 
is  the  mob  more  bold,  more  constant  ?  Heaven  knows 
that  I  speak  not  with  the  prejudices  of  my  order — I 
weep  for  the  debasement  of  my  country!  I  am  a 
Roman,  and  in  that  name  I  forget  that  I  am  a  noble. 
But  I  tremble  at  the  storm  you  would  raise  so  hazard- 
ously. If  your  insurrection  succeed,  it  will  be  violent : 
it  will  be  purchased  by  blood — by  the  blood  of  all  the 
loftiest  names  of  Rome.  You  will  aim  at  a  second 
expulsion  of  the  Tarquins ;  but  it  will  be  more  like  a 
second  proscription  of  Sylla.  Massacres  and  dis- 
orders never  pave  the  way  to  peace.  If,  on  the  other 
hand,  you  fail,  the  chains  of  Rome  are  riveted  for 
ever :  an  ineffectual  struggle  to  escape  is  but  an  excuse 
for  additional  tortures  to  the  slave." 

"  And  what,  then,  would  the  Lord  Adrian  have  us 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES          77 

do  ? "  said  Rienzi,  with  that  peculiar  and  sarcastic 
smile  which  has  before  been  noted.  "  Shall  we  wait 
till  the  Colonna  and  Orsini  quarrel  no  more?  shall 
we  ask  the  Colonna  for  liberty,  and  the  Orsini  for  jus- 
tice? My  Lord,  we  cannot  appeal  to  the  nobles 
against  the  nobles.  We  must  not  ask  them  to  mod- 
erate their  power;  we  must  restore  to  ourselves  that 
power.  There  may  be  danger  in  the  attempt — but  we 
attempt  it  amongst  the  monuments  of  the  Forum :  and 
if  we  fall — we  shall  perish  worthy  of  our  sires !  Ye  have 
high  descent,  and  sounding  titles,  and  wide  lands,  and 
you  talk  of  your  ancestral  honours !  We,  too, — we 
plebeians  of  Rome, — we  have  ours!  Our  fathers  were 
freemen !  where  is  our  heritage  ?  not  sold — not  given 
away :  but  stolen  from  us,  now  by  fraud,  now  by  force 
— filched  from  us  in  our  sleep ;  or  wrung  from  us  with 
fierce  hands,  amidst  our  cries  and  struggles.  My 
Lord,  we  but  ask  that  lawful  heritage  to  be  restored 
to  us :  to  us — nay,  to  you  it  is  the  same ;  your  liberty, 
alike,  is  gone.  Can  you  dwell  in  your  father's  house, 
without  towers,  and  fortresses,  and  the  bought  swords 
of  bravos  ?  can  you  walk  in  the  streets  at  dark  without 
arms  and  followers?  True,  you,  a  noble',  may  retali- 
ate ;  though  we  dare  not.  You,  in  your  turn,  may  ter- 
rify and  outrage  others;  but  does  licence  compensate 
for  liberty  ?  They  have  given  you  pomp  and  power — 
but  the  safety  of  equal  laws  were  a  better  gift.  Oh, 
were  I  you — were  I  Stephen  Colonna  himself,  I  should 
pant,  ay,  thirstily  as  I  do  now,  for  that  free  air  which 
comes  not  through  bars  and  bulwarks  against  my  fel- 
low-citizens, but  in  the  open  space  of  Heaven — safe, 
because  protected  by  the  silent  Providence  of  Law, 
and  not  by  the  lean  fears  and  hollow-eyed  suspicions 
which  are  the  comrades  of  a  hated  power.  The  tyrant 


78  RIENZI 

thinks  he  is  free,  because  he  commands  slaves :  the 
meanest  peasant  in  a  free  state  is  more  free  than  he  is. 
Oh,  my  Lord,  that  you — the  brave,  the  generous,  the 
enlightened — you,  almost  alone  amidst  your  order,  in 
the  knowledge  that  we  had  a  country — oh,  would  that 
you  who  can  sympathise  with  our  sufferings,  would 
strike  with  us  for  their  redress !  " 

"  Thou  wilt  war  against  Stephen  Colonna,  my  kins- 
man ;  and  thoftgh  I  have  seen  him  but  little,  nor,  truth 
to  say,  esteem  him  much,  yet  he  is  ihe  boast  of  our 
house, — how  can  I  join  thee?" 

"  His  life  will  be  safe,  his  possessions  safe,  his  rank 
safe.  What  do  we  war  against?  His  power  to  do 
wrong  to  others  ?  " 

"  Should  he  discover  that  thou  hast  force  beyond 
words,  he  would  be  less  merciful  to  thee." 

"  And  has  he  not  discovered  that  ?  Do  not  the 
shouts  of  the  people  tell  him  that  I  am  a  man  whom 
he  should  fear?  Does  he — the  cautious,  the  wily,  the 
profound — does  he  build  fortresses,  and  erect  towers, 
and  not  see  from  his  battlements  the  mighty  fabric  that 
I,  too,  have  erected  ?  " 

"  You !  where,  Rienzi  ?  " 

"  In  the  hearts  of  Rome !  Does  he  not  see  ?  "  con- 
tinued Rienzi.  "  No,  no ;  he — all,  all  his  tribe  are 
blind.  Is  it  not  so?" 

"  Of  a  certainty,  my  kinsman  has  no  belief  in  your 
power,  else  he  would  have  crushed  you  long  ere  this. 
Nay,  it  was  but  three  days  ago  that  he  said,  gravely, 
he  would  rather  you  addressed  the  populace  than  the 
best  priest  in  Christendom ;  for  that  other  orators  in- 
flamed the  crowd,  and  no  man  so  stilled  and  dispersed 
them  as  you  did." 

"  And  I  called  him  profound !     Does  not  Heaven 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES          79 

hush  the  air  most  when  most  it  prepares  the  storm? 
Ay,  my  Lord,  I  understand.  Stephen  Colonna 
despises  me.  I  have  been  " — (here,  as  he  continued, 
a  deep  blush  mantled  over  his  cheek) — "  you  remem- 
ber it — at  his  palace  in  my  younger  days,  and  pleased 
him  with  witty  tales  and  light  apophthegms.  Nay — 
ha !  ha ! — he  would  call  me,  I  think,  sometimes,  in  gay 
compliment,  his  jester — his  buffoon !  I  have  brooked 
his  insult ;  I  have  even  bowed  to  his  applause.  I  would 
undergo  the  same  penance,  stoop  to  the  same  shame, 
for  the  same  motive,  and  in  the  same  cause.  What  did 
I  desire  to  effect?  Can  you  tell  me?  No!  I  will 
whisper  it,  then,  to  you :  it  was — the  contempt  of 
Stephen  Colonna.  Under  that  contempt  I  was  pro- 
tected, till  protection  became  no  longer  necessary.  I 
desired  not  to  be  thought  formidable  by  the  patricians, 
in  order  that,  quietly  and  unsuspected,  I  might  make 
my  way  amongst  the  people.  I  have  done  so ;  I  now 
throw  aside  the  mask.  Face  to  face  with  Stephen 
Colonna,  I  could  tell  him,  this  very  hour,  that  I  brave 
his  anger;  that  I  laugh  at  his  dungeons  and  armed 
men.  But  if  he  think  me  the  same  Rienzi  as  of  old, 
let  him ;  I  can  wait  my  hour." 

"  Yet,"  said  Adrian,  waiving  an  answer  to  the 
haughty  language  of  his  companion,  "  tell  me,  what 
dost  thou  ask  for  the  people,  in  order  to  avoid  an 
appeal  to  their  passions? — ignorant  and  capricious  as 
they  are,  thon  canst  not  appeal  to  their  reason." 

"  I  ask  full  justice  and  safety  for  all  men.  I  will  be 
contented  with  no  less  a  compromise.  I  ask  the 
nobles  to  dismantle  their  fortresses;  to  disband  their 
armed  retainers ;  to  acknowledge  no  impunity  for 
crime  in  high  lineage ;  to  claim  no  protection  save  in 
the  courts  of  the  common  law." 


80  RIENZI 

"  Vain  desire !  "  said  Adrian.  "  Ask  what  may  yet 
be  granted." 

"  Ha — ha !  ha !  "  replied  Rienzi,  laughing  bitterly, 
"  did  I  not  tell  you  it  was  a  vain  dream  to  ask  for  law 
and  justice  at  the  hands  of  the  great?  Can  you  blame 
me,  then,  that  I  ask  it  elsewhere  ?  "  Then,  suddenly 
changing  his  tone  and  manner,  he  added  with  great 
solemnity — "  Waking  life  hath  false  and  vain  dreams ; 
but  sleep  is  sometimes  a  mighty  prophet.  By  sleep 
it  is  that  Heaven  mysteriously  communes  with  its 
creatures,  and  guides  and  sustains  its  earthly  agents  in 
the  path  to  which  its  providence  leads  them  on." 

Adrian  made  no  reply.  This  was  not  the  first  time 
he  had  noted  that  Rienzi's  strong  intellect  was 
strangely  conjoined  with  a  deep  and  mystical  supersti- 
tion. And  this  yet  more  inclined  the  young  noble, 
who,  though  sufficiently  devout,  yielded  but  little  to 
the  wilder  credulities  of  the  time,  to  doubt  the  success 
of  the  schemer's  projects.  In  this  he  erred  greatly, 
though  his  error  was  that  of  the  worldly  wise.  For 
nothing  ever  so  inspires  human  daring,  as  the  fond 
belief  that  it  is  the  agent  of  a  Diviner  Wisdom. 
Revenge  and  patriotism,  united  in  one  man  of  genius 
and  ambition — such  are  the  Archimedian  levers  that 
find,  in  FANATICISM,  the  spot  out  of  the  world  by  which 
to  move  the  world.  The  prudent  man  may  direct  a 
state ;  but  it  is  the  enthusiast  who  regenerates  it, — or 
ruins. 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES          81 


CHAPTER   IX 

"  WHEN    THE    PEOPLE    SAW    THIS    PICTURE    EVERY    ONE 
MARVELLED  " 

Before  the  market-place,  and  at  the  foot  of  the  Cap- 
itol, an  immense  crowd  was  assembled.  Each  man 
sought  to  push  before  his  neighbour;  each  struggled 
to  gain  access  to  one  particular  spot,  round  which  the 
crowd  was  wedged  thick  and  dense. 

"  Corpo  di  Dio !  "  said  a  man  of  huge  stature,  press- 
ing onward,  like  some  bulky  ship,  casting  the  noisy 
waves  right  and  left  from  its  prow,  "  this  is  hot  work ; 
but  for  what,  in  the  Holy  Mother's  name,  'do  ye  crowd 
so?  See  you  not,  Sir  Ribald,  that  my  right  arm  is 
disabled,  swathed,  and  bandaged,  so  that  I  cannot  help 
myself  better  than  a  baby?  and  yet,  you  push  against 
me  as  if  I  were  an  old  wall !  " 

"  Ah,  Cecco  del  Vecchio ! — what,  man !  we  must 
make  way  for  you — you  are  too  small  and  tender  to 
bustle  through  a  crowd !  Come,  I  will  protect  you !  " 
said  a  dwarf  of  some  four  feet  high,  glancing  up  at  the 
giant. 

"  Faith,"  said  the  grim  smith,  looking  round  on  the 
mob,  who  laughed  loud  at  the  dwarf's  proffer,  "  Ve  all 
do  want  protection,  big  and  small.  What  do  you  laugh 
for,  ye  apes  ? — ay,  you  don't  understand  parables." 

"  And  yet  it  is  a  parable  we  are  come  to  gaze  upon," 
said  one  of  the  mob,  with  a  slight  sneer. 

"  Pleasant  day  to  you,  Signer  Baroncelli,"  answered 
Cecco  del  Vecchio ;  "  you  are  a  good  man,  and  love 
the  people ;  it  makes  one's  heart  smile  to  see  you. 
What's  all  this  pother  for?" 
6 


82  RIENZI 

"  Why  the  Pope's  Notary  hath  set  up  a  great  pic- 
ture in  the  market-place,  and  the  gapers  say  it  relates 
to  Rome ;  so  they  are  melting  their  brains  out,  this 
hot  day,  to  guess  at  the  riddle." 

"  Ho !  ho ! "  said  the  smith,  pushing  on  so  vigorously 
that  he  left  the  speaker  suddenly  in  the  rear ;  "  if  Cola 
di  Rienzi  hath  aught  in  the  matter,  I  would  break 
through  stone  rocks  to  get  to  it." 

"  Much  good  will  a  dead  daub  do  us,"  said  Baron- 
celli,  sourly,  and  turning  to  Ms  neighbours;  but  no 
man  listened  to  him,  and  he,  a  would-be  demagogue, 
gnawed  his  lip  in  envy. 

Amidst  half-awed  groans  and  curses  from  the  men 
whom  he  jostled  aside,  and  open  objurgations  and 
shrill  cries  from  the  women,  to  whose  robes  and  head- 
gear he  showed  as  little  respect,  the  sturdy  smith  won 
his  way  to  a  space  fenced  round  by  chains,  in  the 
centre  of  which  was  placed  a  huge  picture. 

"  How  came  it  hither?  "  cried  one;  "  I  was  first  at 
the  market." 

"  We  found  it  here  at  daybreak,"  said  a  vendor  of 
fruit :  "  no  one  was  by." 

"  But  why  do  you  fancy  Rienzi  had  a  hand  in  it  ?  " 

"  Why,  who  else  could  ?  "  answered  twenty  voices. 

"  True !  Who  else  ?  "  echoed  the  gaunt  smith.  "  I 
dare  be  sworn  the  good  man  spent  the  whole  night  in 
painting  it  himself.  Blood  of  St.  Peter!  but  it  is 
mighty  fine!  What  is  it  about?" 

"  That's  the  riddle,"  said  a  meditative  fish-woman ; 
"  if  I  could  make  it  out  I  should  die  happy." 

"  It  is  something  about  liberty  and  taxes,  no  doubt," 
said  Luigi,  the  butcher,  leaning  over  the  chains.  "  Ah, 
if  Rienzi  were  minded,  every  poor  man  would  have  his 
bit  of  meat  in  his  pot." 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES          83 

"  And  as  much  bread  as  he  could  eat,"  added  a  pale 
baker. 

"  Chut !  bread  and  meat — everybody  has  that  now ! 
— but  what  wine  the  poor  folks  drink !  One  has  no 
encouragement  to  take  pains  with  one's  vineyard," 
said  a  vine-dresser. 

"  Ho,  hollo  ! — long  life  to  Pandulfo  di  Guido !  make 
way  for  master  Pandulfo ;  he  is  a  learned  man ;  he  is  a 
friend  of  the  great  Notary's :  he  will  tell  us  all  about 
the  picture  ;  make  way,  there — make  way !  " 

Slowly  and  modestly,  Pandulfo  di  Guido,  a  quiet, 
wealthy,  and  honest  man  of  letters,  whom  nought  save 
the  violence  of  the  times  could  have  roused  from  his 
tranquil  home,  or  his  studious  closet,  passed  to  the 
chains.  He  looked  long  and  hard  at  the  picture, 
which  was  bright  with  new,  and  yet  moist  colours,  and 
exhibited  somewhat  of  the  reviving  art,  which,  though 
hard  and  harsh  in  its  features,  was  about  that  time 
visible,  and,  carried  to  a  far  higher  degree,  we  yet 
gaze  upon  in  the  paintings  of  Perugino,  who  flour- 
ished during  the  succeeding  generation.  The  people 
pressed  round  the  learned  man,  with  open  mouths ; 
now  turning  their  eyes  to  the  picture,  now  to  Pan- 
dulfo. 

"  Know  you  not,"  at  length  said  Pandulfo,  "  the  easy 
and  palpable  meaning  of  this  design?  Behold  how 
the  painter  has  presented  to  you  a  vast  and  stormy  sea 
— mark  how  its  waves — " 

"  Speak  louder — louder !  "  shouted  the  impatient 
crowd. 

"  Hush ! "  cried  those  in  the  immediate  vicinity 
of  Pandulfo,  "  the  worthy  Signer  is  perfectly  au- 
dible ! " 

Meanwhile,    some    of    the    more    witty,    pushing 


84  RIENZI 

towards  a  stall  in  the  market-place,  bore  from  it  a 
rough  table,  from  which  they  besought  Pandulfo  to 
address  the  people.  The  pale  citizen,  with  some  pain 
and  shame,  for  he  was  no  practised  spokesman,  was 
obliged  to  assent ;  but  when  he  cast  his  eyes  over  the 
vast  and  breathless  crowd,  his  own  deep  sympathy 
with  their  cause  inspired  and  emboldened  him.  A 
light  broke  from  his  eyes;  his  voice  swelled  into 
power;  and  his  head,  usually  buried  in  his  breast,  be- 
came erect  and  commanding  in  its  air. 

"  You  see  before  you  in  the  picture  "  (he  began 
again)  "  a  mighty  and  tempestuous  sea :  upon  its  waves 
you  behold  five  ships  ;  four  of  them  are  already  wrecks, 
— their  masts  are  broken,  the  waves  are  dashing 
through  the  rent  planks,  they  are  past  all  aid  and 
hope :  on  each  of  these  ships  lies  the  corpse  of  a 
woman.  See  you  not,  in  the  wan  face  and  livid  limbs, 
how  faithfully  the  limner  hath  painted  the  hues  and 
loathsomeness  of  death?  Below  each  of  these  ships 
is  a  word  that  applies  the  metaphor  to  truth.  Yonder, 
you  see  the  name  of  Carthage ;  the  other  three  are 
Troy,  Jerusalem,  and  Babylon.  To  these  four  is  one 
common  inscription.  '  To  exhaustion  were  we  brought 
by  injustice ! '  Turn  now  your  eyes  to  the  middle  of 
the  sea, — there  you  behold  the  fifth  ship,  tossed  amidst 
the  waves,  her  mast  broken,  her  rudder  gone,  her  sails 
shivered,  but  not  yet  a  wreck  like  the  rest,  though  she 
soon  may  be.  On  her  deck  kneels  a  female,  clothed 
in  mourning ;  mark  the  woe  upon  her  countenance, — 
how  cunningly  the  artist  has  conveyed  its  depth  and 
desolation ;  she  stretches  out  her  arms  in  prayer,  she 
implores  your  and  Heaven's  assistance.  Mark  now 
the  superscription — '  This  is  Rome ! ' — Yes,  it  is  your 
country  that  addresses  you  in  this  emblem !  " 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES          85 

The  crowd  waved  to  and  fro,  and  a  deep  murmur 
crept  gathering  over  the  silence  which  they  had  hith- 
erto kept. 

"  Now,"  continued  Pandulfo,  "  turn  your  gaze  to  the 
right  of  the  picture,  and  you  will  behold  the  cause  of 
the  tempest, — you  will  see  why  the  fifth  vessel  is  thus 
perilled,  and  her  sisters  are  thus  wrecked.  Mark,  four 
different  kinds  of  animals,  who,  from  their  horrid  jaws, 
send  forth  the  winds  and  storms  which  torture  and 
rack  the  sea.  The  first  are  the  lions,  the  wolves,  the 
bears.  These,  the  inscription  tells  you,  are  the  lawless 
and  savage  signers  of  the  state.  The  next  are  the 
dogs  and  swine, — these  are  the  evil  counsellors  and 
parasites.  Thirdly,  you  behold  the  dragons  and  the 
foxes, — and  these  are  false  judges  and  notaries,  and 
they  who  sell  justice.  Fourthly,  in  the  hares,  the  goats, 
the  apes,  that  assist  in  creating  the  storm,  you  per- 
ceive, by  the  inscription,  the  emblems  of  the  popular 
thieves  and  homicides,  ravishers  and  spoliators.  Are 
ye  bewildered  still,  O  Romans!  or  have  ye  mastered 
the  riddle  of  the  picture  ?  " 

Far  in  their  massive  palaces  the  Savelli  and  Orsini 
heard  the  echo  of  the  shouts  that  answered  the  ques- 
tion of  Pandulfo. 

"  Are  ye,  then,  without  hope !  "  resumed  the  scholar, 
as  the  shout  ceased,  and  hushing,  with  the  first  sound 
of  his  voice,  the  ejaculations  and  speeches  which  each 
man  had  turned  to  utter  to  his  neighbour.  "  Are  ye 
without  hope?  Doth  the  picture,  which  shows  your 
tribulation,  promise  you  no  redemption?  Behold, 
above  that  angry  sea,  the  heavens  open,  and  the 
majesty  of  God  descends  gloriously,  as  to  judgment ; 
and,  from  the  rays  that  surround  the  spirit  of  God 
extend  two  flaming  swords,  and  on  those  swords  stand, 


86  RIENZI 

in  wrath,  but  in  deliverance,  the  two  patron  saints — 
the  two  mighty  guardians  of  your  city !  People  of 
Rome,  farewell !  the  parable  is  finished."  * 


CHAPTER    X 

A     ROUGH     SPIRIT     RAISED,     WHICH     MAY     HEREAFTER 
REND   THE   WIZARD 

While  thus  animated  was  the  scene  around  the  Cap- 
itol, within  one  of  the  apartments  of  the  palace  sat  the 
agent  and  prime  cause  of  that  excitement.  In  the 
company  of  his  quiet  scribes,  Rienzi  appeared  ab- 
sorbed in  the  patient  details  of  his  avocation.  While 
the  murmur  and  the  hum,  the  shout  and  the  tramp,  of 
multitudes,  rolled  to  his  chamber,  he  seemed  not  to 
heed  them,  nor  to  rouse  himself  a  moment  from  his 
task.  With  the  unbroken  regularity  of  an  automaton, 
he  continued  to  enter  in  his  large  book,  and  with  the 
clear  and  beautiful  characters  of  the  period,  those 
damning  figures  which  taught  him,  better  than  decla- 
mations, the  frauds  practised  on  the  people,  and  armed 
him  with  that  weapon  of  plain  fact  which  it  is  so  dif- 
ficult for  abuse  to  parry. 

"  Page  2,  Vol.  B.,"  said  he,  in  the  tranquil  voice  of 
business,  to  the  clerks ;  "  see  there,  the  profits  of  the 
salt  duty ;  department  No.  3 — very  well.  Page  9,  Vol. 

*  M.  Sismondi  attributes  to  Rienzi  a  fine  oration  at  the 
showing  of  the  picture,  in  which  he  thundered  against  the 
vices  of  the  patricians.  The  contemporary  biographer  of 
Rienzi  says  nothing  of  this  harangue.  But,  apparently  (since 
history  has  its  liberties  as  well  as  fiction),  M.  Sismondi  has 
thought  it  convenient  to  confound  two  occasions  very  distinct 
in  themselves. 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES          87 

D. — what  is  the  account  rendered  by  Vescobaldi,  the 
collector  ?  What !  twelve  thousand  florins  ? — no  more  ? 
— unconscionable  rascal !  "  (Here  was  a  loud  shout 
without  of  "  Pandulfo  ! — long  live  Pandulfo  !  ")  "  Pas- 
trucci,  my  friend,  your  head  wanders ;  you  are  listening 
to  the  noise  without — please  to  amuse  yourself  with 
the  calculation  I  entrusted  to  you.  Santi,  what  is  the 
entry  given  in  by  Antonio  Tralli  ?  " 

A  slight  tap  was  heard  at  the  door,  and  Pandulfo 
entered. 

The  clerks  continued  their  labour,  though  they 
looked  up  hastily  at  the  pale  and  respectable  visitor, 
whose  name,  to  their  great  astonishment,  had  thus 
become  a  popular  cry. 

"  Ah,  my  friend,"  said  Rienzi,  calmly  enough  in 
voice,  but  his  hands  trembled  with  ill-suppressed  emo- 
tion, "  you  would  speak  to  me  alone,  eh  ?  well,  well, — 
this  way."  Thus  saying,  he  led  the  citizen  into  a 
small  cabinet  in  the  rear  of  the  room  of  office,  care- 
fully shut  the  door,  and  then  giving  himself  up  to  the 
natural  impatience  of  his  character,  seized  Pandulfo 
by  the  hand :  "  Speak !  "  cried  he :  "  do  they  take  the 
interpretation? — have  you  made  it  plain  and  palpable 
enough  ? — has  it  sunk  deep  into  their  souls  ?  " 

"  Oh,  by  St.  Peter !  yes ! "  returned  the  citizen, 
whose  spirits  were  elevated  by  his  recent  discovery 
that  he,  too,  was  an  orator — a  luxurious  pleasure  for 
a  timid  man.  "  They  swallowed  every  word  of  the 
interpretation ;  they  are  moved  to  the  marrow — you 
might  lead  them  this  very  hour  to  battle,  and  find  them 
heroes.  As  for  the  sturdy  smith — " 

"  What !  Cecco  del  Vecchio  ?  "  interrupted  Rienzi ; 
"  ah,  his  heart  is  wrought  in  bronze — what  did  he  ?  " 

"  Why,  he  caught  me  by  the  hem  of  my  robe  as  I 


88  RIENZI 

descended  my  rostrum  (oh!  would  you  could  have 
seen  me  ! — per  fcde  I  had  caught  your  mantle  ! — I  was 
a  second  you!)  and  said,  weeping  like  a  child,  '  Ah, 
Signer,  I  am  but  a  poor  man,  and  of  little  worth ;  but 
if  every  drop  of  blood  in  this  body  were  a  life,  I  would 
give  it  for  my  country ! ' : 

"  Brave  soul,"  said  Rienzi,  with  emotion ;  "  would 
Rome  had  but  fifty  such  !  No  man  hath  done  us  more 
good  among  his  own  class  than  Cecco  del  Vecchio." 

"  They  feel  a  protection  in  his  very  size,"  said  Pan- 
dulfo.  "  It  is  something  to  hear  such  big  words  from 
such  a  big  fellow." 

"  Were  there  any  voices  lifted  in  disapprobation  of 
the  picture  and  its  sentiment  ?  " 

"  None." 

"  The  time  is  nearly  ripe,  then — a  few  suns  more, 
and  the  fruit  must  be  gathered.  The  Aventine, — the 
Lateran, — and  then  the  solitary  trumpet! "  Thus  say- 
ing, Rienzi,  with  folded  arms  and  downcast  eyes, 
seemed  sunk  into  a  reverie. 

"  By  the  way,"  said  Pandulfo,  "  I  had  almost  for- 
got to  tell  thee,  that  the  crowd  would  have  poured 
themselves  hither,  so  impatient  were  they  to  see  thee ; 
but  I  bade  Cecco  del  Vecchio  mount  the  rostrum,  and 
tell  them,  in  his  blunt  way,  that  it  would  be  unseemly 
at  the  present  time,  when  thou  wert  engaged  in  the 
Capitol  on  civil  and  holy  affairs,  to  rush  in  so  great 
a  body  into  thy  presence.  Did  I  not  right?  " 

"  Most  right,  my  Pandulfo." 

"  But  Cecco  del  Vecchio  says  he  must  come  and 
kiss  thy  hand :  and  thou  mayest  expect  him  here  the 
moment  he  can  escape  unobserved  from  the  crowd." 

"  He  is  welcome ! "  said  Rienzi,  half  mechanically, 
for  he  was  still  absorbed  in  thought. 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES          89 

"  And  lo !  here  he  is," — as  one  of  the  scribes  an- 
nounced the  visit  of  the  smith. 

"  Let  him  be  admitted ! "  said  Rienzi,  seating  him- 
self composedly. 

When  the  huge  smith  found  himself  in  the  presence 
of  Rienzi,  it  amused  Pandulfo  to  perceive  the  wonder- 
ful influences  of  mind  over  matter.  That  fierce  and 
sturdy  giant,  who,  in  all  popular  commotions,  towered 
above  his  tribe,  with  thews  of  stone,  and  nerves  of 
iron,  the  rallying  point  and  bulwark  of  the  rest, — 
stood  now  colouring  and  trembling  before  the  intel- 
lect, which  (so  had  the  eloquent  spirit  of  Rienzi  waked 
and  fanned  the  spark  which,  till  then,  had  lain  dor- 
mant in  that  rough  bosom)  might  almost  be  said  to 
have  created  his  own.  And  he,  indeed,  who  first 
arouses  in  the  bondsman  the  sense  and  soul  of  free- 
dom, comes  as  near  as  is  permitted  to  man,  nearer 
than  the  philosopher,  nearer  even  than  the  poet,  to 
the  great  creative  attribute  of  God ! — But,  if  the  breast 
be  uneducated,  the  gift  may  curse  the  giver;  and  he 
who  passes  at  once  from  the  slave  to  the  freeman  may 
pass  as  rapidly  from  the  freeman  to  the  ruffian. 

"  Approach,  my  friend,"  said  Rienzi,  after  a 
moment's  pause ;  "  I  know  all  that  thou  hast  done,  and 
wouldst  do,  for  Rome !  Thou  are  worthy  of  her  best 
days,  and  thou  art  born  to  share  in  their  return." 

The  smith  dropped  at  the  feet  of  Rienzi,  who  held 
out  his  hand  to  raise  him,  which  Cecco  del  Vecchio 
seized,  and  reverently  kissed. 

"  This  kiss  doth  not  betray,"  said  Rienzi,  smiling ; 
"  but  rise,  my  friend, — this  posture  is  only  due  to  God 
and  his  saints !  " 

"  He  is  a  saint  who  helps  us  at  need ! "  said  the 
smith,  bluntly,  "  and  that  no  man  has  done  as  thou 


90  RIENZI 

hast.  But  when,"  he  added,  sinking  his  voice,  and 
fixing  his  eyes  hard  on  Rienzi,  as  one  may  do  who 
waits  a  signal  to  strike  a  blow,  "  when — when  shall  we 
make  the  great  effort  ?  " 

"  Thou  hast  spoken  to  all  the  brave  men  in  thy 
neighbourhood, — are  they  well  prepared  ?  " 

"  To  live  or  die,  as  Rienzi  bids  them !  " 

"  I  must  have  the  list — the  number — names — 
houses  and  callings,  this  night." 

"  Thou  shalt." 

"  Each  man  must  sign  his  name  or  mark  with  his 
own  hand." 

"  It  shall  be  done." 

"  Then,  harkye !  attend  Pandulfo  di  Guido  at  his 
house  this  evening,  at  sunset.  He  shall  instruct  thee 
where  to  meet  this  night  some  brave  hearts; — thou 
art  worthy  to  be  ranked  amongst  them.  Thou  wilt 
not  fail!" 

"  By  the  Holy  Stairs !  I  will  count  every  minute  till 
then,"  said  the  smith,  his  swarthy  face  lighted  with 
pride  at  the  confidence  shown  him. 

"  Meanwhile,  watch  all  your  neighbours;  let  no  man 
flag  or  grow  faint-hearted, — none  of  thy  friends  must 
be  branded  as  a  traitor !  " 

"  I  will  cut  his  throat,  were  he  my  own  mother's  son, 
if  I  find  one  pledged  man  flinch  !  "  said  the  fierce  smith. 

"  Ha,  ha !  "  rejoined  Rienzi,  with  that  strange  laugh 
which  belonged  to  him ;  "  a  miracle  !  a  miracle  !  The 
Picture  speaks  now !  " 

It  was  already  nearly  dusk  when  Rienzi  left  the 
Capitol.  The  broad  space  before  its  walls  was  empty 
and  deserted,  and  wrapping  his  mantle  closely  round 
him,  he  walked  musingly  on. 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES          91 

"  I  have  almost  climbed  the  height,"  thought  he, 
"  and  now  the  precipice  yawns  before  me.  If  I  fail, 
what  a  fall !  The  last  hope  of  my  country  falls  with 
me.  Never  will  a  noble  rise  against  the  nobles. 
Never  will  another  plebeian  have  the  opportunities 
and  the  power  that  I  have !  Rome  is  bound  up  with  me 
— with  a  single  life.  The  liberties  of  all  time  are  fixed 
to  a  reed  that  a  wind  may  uproot.  But  oh,  Provi- 
dence !  hast  thou  not  reserved  and  marked  me  for 
great  deeds  ?  How,  step  by  step,  have  I  been  led  on  to 
this  solemn  enterprise !  How  has  each  hour  prepared 
its  successor!  And  yet  what  danger!  if  the  incon- 
stant people,  made  cowardly  by  long  thraldom,  do  but 
waver  in  the  crisis,  I  am  swept  away ! " 

As  he  spoke,  he  raised  his  eyes,  and  lo,  before  him, 
the  first  star  of  twilight  shone  calmly  down  upon  the 
crumbling  remnants  of  the  Tarpeian  Rock.  It  was 
no  favouring  omen,  and  Rienzi's  heart  beat  quicker 
as  that  dark  and  ruined  mass  frowned  thus  suddenly 
on  his  gaze. 

"  Dread  monument,"  thought  he,  "  of  what  dark 
catastrophes,  to  what  unknown  schemes,  hast  thou 
been  the  witness !  To  how  many  enterprises,  on 
which  history  is  dumb,  hast  thou  set  the  seal !  How 
know  we  whether  they  were  criminal  or  just?  How 
know  we  whether  he,  thus  doomed  as  a  traitor,  would 
not,  if  successful,  have  been  immortalised  as  a  deliv- 
erer? If  I  fall,  who  will  write  my  chronicle?  One  of 
the  people  ?  alas !  blinded  and  ignorant,  they  furnish 
forth  no  minds  that  can  appeal  to  posterity.  One  of 
the  patricians  ?  in  what  colours  then  shall  I  be  painted ! 
No  tomb  will  rise  for  me  amidst  the  wrecks ;  no  hand 
scatter  flowers  upon  my  grave !  " 

Thus  meditating  on  the  verge  of  that  mighty  enter- 


92  RIENZI 

prise  to  which  he  had  devoted  himself,  Rienzi  pursued 
his  way.  He  gained  the  Tiber,  and  paused  for  a  few 
moments  beside  its  legendary  stream,  over  which  the 
purple  and  star-lit  heaven  shone  deeply  down.  He 
crossed  the  bridge  which  leads  to  the  quarter  of  the 
Trastevere,  whose  haughty  inhabitants  yet  boast  them- 
selves the  sole  true  descendants  of  the  ancient  Romans. 
Here  his  step  grew  quicker  and  more  light ;  brighter, 
if  less  solemn,  thoughts  crowded  upon  his  breast ;  and 
ambition,  lulled  for  a  moment,  left  his  strained  and 
over-laboured  mind  to  the  reign  of  a  softer  passion. 


CHAPTER    XI 

NINA    DI    RASELLI 

"  I  tell  you,  Lucia,  I  do  not  love  those  stuffs ;  they 
do  not  become  me.  Saw  you  ever  so  poor  a  dye? — 
this  purple,  indeed !  that  crimson !  Why  did  you  let 
the  man  leave  them?  Let  him  take  them  elsewhere 
to-morrow.  They  may  suit  the  signoras  on  the  other 
side  the  Tiber,  who  imagine  everything  Venetian  must 
be  perfect ;  but  I,  Lucia,  /  see  with  my  own  eyes,  and 
judge  from  my  own  mind." 

"  Ah,  dear  lady,"  said  the  serving-maid,  "  if  you 
were,  as  you  doubtless  will  be,  some  time  or  other, 
a  grand  signora,  how  worthily  you  would  wear  the 
honours!  Santa  Cecilia!  no  other  dame  in  Rome 
would  be  looked  at  while  the  Lady  Nina  were  by !  " 

"  Would  we  not  teach  them  what  pomp  was  ? " 
answered  Nina.  "  Oh  !  what  festivals  would  we  hold  ! 
Saw  you  not  from  the  gallery  the  reveb  given  last 
week  by  the  Lady  Giulia  Savelli  ?  " 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES          93 

"  Ay,  Signora ;  and  when  you  walked  up  the  hall  in 
your  silver  and  pearl  tissue,  there  ran  such  a  murmur 
through  the  gallery ;  every  one  cried,  '  The  Savelli 
have  entertained  an  angel ! ' : 

"  Pish  !  Lucia ;  no  flattery,  girl." 

"  It  is  naked  truth,  lady.  But  that  was  a  revel,  was 
it  not?  There  was  grandeur! — fifty  servitors  in  scar- 
let and  gold!  and  the  music  playing  all  the  while. 
The  minstrels  were  sent  for  from  Bergamo.  Did  not 
that  festival  please  you?  Ah,  I  warrant  many  were 
the  fine  speeches  made  to  you  that  day !  " 

"  Heigho ! — no,  there  was  one  voice  wanting,  and 
all  the  music  was  marred.  But,  girl,  were  /  the  Lady 
Giulia,  I  would  not  have  been  contented  with  so  poor 
a  revel." 

"  How,  ppor !  Why  all  the  nobles  say  it  outdid  the 
proudest  marriage  feast  of  the  Colonna.  Nay,  a 
Neapolitan  who  sat  next  me,  and  who  had  served 
under  the  young  Queen  Joanna,  at  her  marriage,  says, 
that  even  Naples  was  outshone." 

"  That  may  be.  I  know  nought  of  Naples ;  but  I 
know  what  my  court  should  have  been,  were  I  what — 
what  I  am  not,  and  may  never  be !  The  banquet  ves- 
sels should  have  been  of  gold ;  the  cups  jewelled  to  the 
brim ;  not  an  inch  of  the  rude  pavement  should  have 
been  visible;  all  should  have  glowed  with  cloth  of 
gold.  The  fountain  in  the  court  should  have  show- 
ered up  the  perfumes  of  the  East;  my  pages  should 
not  have  been  rough  youths,  blushing  at.  their  own  un- 
couthness,  but  fair  boys,  who  had  not  told  their  twelfth 
year,  culled  from  the  daintiest  palaces  of  Rome ;  and, 
as  for  the  music,  oh  Lucia ! — each  musician  should  have 
worn  a  chaplet,  and  deserved  it;  and  he  who  played 
best  should  have  had  a  reward,  to  inspire  all  the  rest — 


94  RIENZI 

a  rose  from  me.  Saw  you,  too,  the  Lady  Giulia's 
robe?  What  colours!  they  might  have  put  out  the 
sun  at  noonday ! — yellow,  and  blue,  and  orange,  and 
scarlet !  Oh,  sweet  Saints ! — but  my  eyes  ached  all 
the  next  day !  " 

"  Doubtless,  the  Lady  Giulia  lacks  your  skill  in  the 
mixture  of  colours,"  said  the  complaisant  waiting- 
woman. 

"  And  then,  too,  what  a  mien ! — no  royalty  in  it ! 
She  moved  along  the  hall,  so  that  her  train  well-nigh 
tripped  her  every  moment;  and  then  she  said,  with  a 
foolish  laugh,  '  These  holyday  robes  are  but  trouble- 
some luxuries.'  Troth,  for  the  great  there  should  be 
no  holyday  robes ;  'tis  for  myself,  not  for  others,  that 
I  would  attire !  Every  day  should  have  its  new  robe, 
more  gorgeous  than  the  last; — every  day  should  be  a 
holyday ! " 

"  Methought,"  said  Lucia,  "  that  the  Lord  Giovanni 
Orsini  seemed  very  devoted  to  my  Lady." 

"  He !  the  bear !  " 

"  Bear,  he  may  be !  but  he  has  a  costly  skin.  His 
riches  are  untold." 

"  And  the  fool  knows  not  how  to  spend  them." 

"  Was  not  that  the  young  Lord  Adrian  who  spoke 
to  you  just  by  the  columns,  where  the  music  played?  " 

"  It  might  be,— I  forget." 

"  Yet,  I  hear  that  few  ladies  forget  when  Lord 
Adrian  di  Castello  woos  them." 

"  There  was  but  one  man  whose  company  seemed 
to  me  worth  the  recollection,"  answered  Nina,  unheed- 
ing the  insinuation  of  the  artful  handmaid. 

"  And  who  was  he  ?  "  asked  Lucia. 

"  The  old  scholar  from  Avignon !  " 

"  What !  he  with  the  gray  beard  ?     Oh,  Signora !  " 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES          95 

"  Yes,"  said  Nina,  with  a  grave  and  sad  voice ; 
"  when  he  spoke,  the  whole  scene  vanished  from  my 
eyes, — for  he  spoke  to  me  of  HIM  !  " 

As  she  said  this  the  Signora  sighed  deeply,  and  the 
tears  gathered  to  her  eyes. 

The  waiting-woman  raised  her  lips  in  disdain,  and 
her  looks  in  wonder;  but  she  did  not  dare  to  venture 
a  reply. 

"  Open  the  lattice,"  said  Nina,  after  a  pause,  "  and 
give  me  yon  paper.  Not  that,  girl — but  the  verses 
sent  me  yesterday.  What !  art  thou  Italian,  and  dost 
thou  not  know,  by  instinct,  that  I  spoke  of  the  rhyme 
of  Petrarch  ?  " 

Seated  by  the  open  casement,  through  which  the 
moonlight  stole  soft  and  sheen,  with  one  lamp  beside 
her,  from  which  she  seemed  to  shade  her  eyes,  though 
in  reality  she  sought  to  hide  her  countenance  from 
Lucia,  the  young  Signora  appeared  absorbed  in  one  of 
those  tender  sonnets  which  then  turned  the  brains  and 
inflamed  the  hearts  of  Italy.* 

Born  of  an  impoverished  house,  which,  though 
boasting  its  descent  from  a  consular  race  of  Rome, 
scarcely  at  that  day  maintained  a  rank  amongst  the 
inferior  order  of  nobility,  Nina  di  Raselli  was  the 
spoiled  child — the  idol  and  the  tyrant — of  her  parents. 
The  energetic  and  self-willed  character  of  her  mind 
made  her  rule  where  she  should  have  obeyed;  and 
as  in  all  ages  dispositions  can  conquer  custom,  she 
had,  though  in  a  clime  and  land  where  the  young  and 

*  Although  it  is  true  that  the  love  sonnets  of  Petrarch  were 
not  then,  as  now,  the  most  esteemed  of  his  works,  yet  it  has 
been  a  great,  though  a  common  error,  to  represent  them  as 
little  known  and  coldly  admired.  Their  effect  was,  in  reality, 
prodigious  and  universal.  Every  ballad-singer  sung  them  in 
the  streets  (says  Filippo  Villani),  "  Gravissimi  nesciebant  ab- 
stinere  " — "  Even  the  gravest  could  not  abstain  from  them." 


96  RIENZI 

unmarried  of  her  sex  are  usually  chained  and  fettered, 
assumed,  and  by  assuming  won,  the  prerogative  of  in- 
dependence. She  possessed,  it  is  true,  more  learning 
and  more  genius  than  generally  fell  to  the  share  of 
women  in  that  day ;  and  enough  of  both  to  be  deemed 
a  miracle  by  her  parents; — she  had,  also,  what  they 
valued  more,  a  surpassing  beauty ;  and,  what  they 
feared  more,  an  indomitable  haughtiness ; — a  haughti- 
ness mixed  with  a  thousand  soft  and  endearing  quali- 
ties where  she  loved;  and  which,  indeed,  where  she 
loved,  seemed  to  vanish.  At  once  vain  yet  high- 
minded,  resolute  yet  impassioned,  there  was  a  gor- 
geous magnificence  in  her  very  vanity  and  splendour, 
— an  ideality  in  her  waywardness :  her  defects  made  a 
part  of  her  brilliancy ;  without  them  she  would  have 
seemed  less  woman ;  and,  knowing  her,  you  would 
have  compared  all  women  by  her  standard.  Softer 
qualities  beside  her  seemed  not  more  charming,  but 
more  insipid.  She  had  no  vulgar  ambition,  for  she 
had  obstinately  refused  many  alliances  which  the 
daughter  of  Raselli  could  scarcely  have  hoped  to  form. 
The  untutored  minds  and  savage  power  of  the  Roman 
nobles  seemed  to  her  imagination,  which  was  full  of 
the  poetry  of  rank,  its  luxury  and  its  graces,  as  some- 
thing barbarous  and  revolting,  at  once  to  be  dreaded 
and  despised.  She  had,  therefore,  passed  her  twen- 
tieth year  unmarried,  but  not  without  love.  The 
faults,  themselves,  of  her  character,  elevated  that  ideal 
of  love  which  she  had  formed.  She  required  some 
being  round  whom  all  her  vainer  qualities  could  rally ; 
she  felt  that  where  she  loved  she  must  adore;  she 
demanded  no  common  idol  before  which  to  humble 
so  strong  and  imperious  a  mind.  Unlike  women  of 
a  gentler  mould,  who  desire,  for  a  short  period,  to 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES          97 

exercise  the  caprices  of  sweet  empire, — when  she  loved 
she  must  cease  to  command ;  and  pride,  at  once,  be 
humbled  to  devotion.  So  rare  were  the  qualities  that 
could  attract  her;  so  imperiously  did  her  haughtiness 
require  that  those  qualities  should  be  above  her  own, 
yet  of  the  same  order ;  that  her  love  elevated  its  object 
like  a  god.  Accustomed  to  despise,  she  felt  all  the 
luxury  it  is  to  venerate !  And  if  it  were  her  lot  to  be 
united  with  one  thus  loved,  her  nature  was  that  which 
might  become  elevated  by  the  nature  that  it  gazed  on. 
For  her  beauty — Reader,  shouldst  thou  ever  go  to 
Rome,  thou  wilt  see  in  the  Capitol  the  picture  of  the 
Cumaean  Sibyl,  which,  often  copied,  no  copy  can  even 
faintly  represent.  I  beseech  thee,  mistake  not  this 
sibyl  for  another,  for  the  Roman  galleries  abound  in 
sibyls.*  The  sibyl  I  speak  of  is  dark,  and  the  face  has 
an  Eastern  cast;  the  robe  and  turban,  gorgeous 
though  they  be,  grow  dim  before  the  rich,  but  trans- 
parent roses  of  the  cheek ;  the  hair  would  be  black, 
save  for  that  golden  glow  which  mellows  it  to  a  hue 
and  lustre  never  seen  but  in  the  south,  and  even  in 
the  south  most  rare ;  the  features,  not  Grecian,  are  yet 
faultless ;  the  mouth,  the  brow,  the  ripe  and  exquisite 
contour,  all  are  human  and  voluptuous ;  the  expression, 
the  aspect,  is  something  more;  the  form  is,  perhaps, 
too  full  for  the  perfection  of  loveliness,  for  the  propor- 
tions of  sculpture,  for  the  delicacy  of  Athenian  mod- 
els ;  but  the  luxuriant  fault  has  a  majesty.  Gaze  long 
upon  that  picture :  it  charms,  yet  commands,  the  eye. 
While  you  gaze,  you  call  back  five  centuries.  You 
see  before  you  the  breathing  image  of  Nina  di  Raselli ! 

*  The  sibyl  referred  to  is  the  well-known  one  by  Domeni- 
chino.  As  a  mere  work  of  art,  that  by  Guercino,  called  the 
Persian  sibyl,  in  the  same  collection,  is  perhaps  superior:  but 
in  beauty,  in  character  there  is  no  comparison. 

7 


98  RIENZI 

But  it  was  not  those  ingenious  and  elaborate  con- 
ceits in  which  Petrarch,  great  Poet  though  he  be,  has 
so  often  mistaken  pedantry  for  passion,  that  absorbed 
at  that  moment  the  attention  of  the  beautiful  Nina. 
Her  eyes  rested  not  on  the  page,  but  on  the  garden 
that  stretched  below  the  casement.  Over  the  old  fruit- 
trees  and  hanging  vines  fell  the  moonshine ;  and  in 
the  centre  of  the  green,  but  half-neglected  sward,  the 
waters  of  a  small  and  circular  fountain,  whose  per- 
fect proportions  spoke  of  days  long  past,  played  and 
sparkled  in  the  starlight.  The  scene  was  still  and 
beautiful ;  but  neither  of  its  stillness  nor  its  beauty 
thought  Nina:  towards  one,  the  gloomiest  and  most 
rugged,  spot  in  the  whole  garden,  turned  her  gaze; 
there,  the  trees  stood  densely  massed  together,  and 
shut  from  view  the  low  but  heavy  wall  which  encircled 
the  mansion  of  Raselli.  The  boughs  on  those  trees 
stirred  gently,  but  Nina  saw  them  wave  ;  and  now  from 
the  copse  emerged,  slowly  and  cautiously,  a  solitary 
figure,  whose  shadow  threw  itself,  long  and  dark,  over 
the  sward.  It  approached  the  window,  and  a  low 
voice  breathed  Nina's  name. 

"  Quick,  Lucia !  "  cried  she,  breathlessly,  turning  to 
her  handmaid :  "  quick !  the  rope-ladder !  it  is  he !  he 
is  come !  How  slow  you  are !  haste,  girl, — he  may  be 
discovered !  There, — O  joy, — O  joy ! — My  lover-!  my 
hero !  my  Rienzi !  " 

"  It  is  you ! "  said  Rienzi,  as,  now  entering  the 
chamber,  he  wound  his  arms  around  her  half-averted 
form,  "  and  what  is  night  to  others  is  day  to  me !  " 

The  first  sweet  moments  of  welcome  were  over ;  and 
Rienzi  was  seated  at  the  feet  of  his  mistress :  his  head 
rested  on  her  knees — his  face  looking  up  to  hers — 
their  hands  clasped  each  in  each. 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES          99 

"  And  for  me  them  bravest  these  dangers !  "  said  the 
lover ;  "  the  shame  of  discovery,  the  wrath  of  thy 
parents !  " 

"  But  what  are  my  perils  to  thine  ?  Oh,  Heaven ! 
if  my  father  found  thee  here  thou  wouldst  die !  " 

"  He  would  think  it  then  so  great  a  humiliation,  that 
thou,  beautiful  Nina,  who  mightst  match  with  the 
haughtiest  names  of  Rome,  shouldst  waste  thy  love  on 
a  plebeian — even  though  the  grandson  of  an  em- 
peror ! " 

The  proud  heart  of  Nina  could  sympathise  well  with 
the  wounded  pride  of  her  lover :  she  detected  the  sore- 
ness which  lurked  beneath  his  answer,  carelessly  as  it 
was  uttered. 

"  Hast  thou  not  told  me,"  she  said,  "  of  that  great 
Marius,  who  was  no  noble,  but  from  whom  the  loftiest 
Colonna  would  rejoice  to  claim  his  descent?  and  do  I 
not  know  in  thee  one  who  shall  yet  eclipse  the  power 
of  Marius,  unsullied  by  his  vices?  " 

"  Delicious  flattery !  sweet  prophet !  "  sa'id  Rienzi, 
with  a  melancholy  smile ;  "  never  were  thy  supporting 
promises  of  the  future  more  welcome  to  me  than  now ; 
for  to  thee  I  will  say  what  I  would  utter  to  none  else — 
my  soul  half  sinks  beneath  the  mighty  burthen  I  have 
heaped  upon  it.  I  want  new  courage  as  the  dread 
hour  approaches;  and  from  thy  words  and  looks  I 
drink  it." 

"  Oh ! "  answered  Nina,  blushing  as  she  spoke, 
"  glorious  is  indeed  the  lot  which  I  have  bought  by 
my  love  for  thee :  glorious  to  share  thy  schemes, 
to  cheer  thee  in  doubt,  to  whisper  hope  to  thee  in 
danger." 

"  And  give  grace  to  me  in  triumph !  "  added  Rienzi, 
passionately.  "  Ah !  should  the  future  ever  place 


ioo  RIENZI 

upon  these  brows  the  laurel-wreath  due  to  one  who 
has  saved  his  country,  what  joy,  what  recompence,  to 
lay  it  at  thy  feet !  Perhaps,  in  those  long  and  solitary 
hours  of  languor  and  exhaustion  which  fill  up  the 
interstices  of  time, — the  dull  space  for  sober  thought 
between  the  epochs  of  exciting  action, — perhaps  I 
should  have  failed  and  flagged,  and  renounced  even 
my  dreams  for  Rome,  had  they  not  been  linked  also 
with  my  dreams  for  thee ! — had  I  not  pictured  to  my- 
self the  hour  when  my  fate  should  elevate  me  beyond 
my  birth ;  when  thy  sire  would  deem  it  no  disgrace  to 
give  thee  to  my  arms ;  when  thou,  too,  shouldst  stand 
amidst  the  dames  of  Rome,  more  honoured,  as  more 
beautiful,  than  all ;  and  when  I  should  see  that  pomp, 
which  my  own  soul  disdains,*  made  dear  and  grateful 
to  me  because  associated  with  thee !  Yes,  it  is  these 
thoughts  that  have  inspired  me,  when  sterner  ones 
have  shrunk  back  appalled  from  the  spectres  that  sur- 
round their  goal.  And  oh!  my  Nina,  sacred,  strong, 
enduring  must  be,  indeed,  the  love  which  lives  in  the 
same  pure  and  elevated  air  as  that  which  sustains  my 
hopes  of  liberty  and  fame !  " 

This  was  the  language  which,  more  even  than  the 
vows  of  fidelity  and  the  dear  adulation  which  springs 
from  the  heart's  exuberance,  had  bound  the  proud  find 
vain  soul  of  Nina  to  the  chains  that  it  so  willingly 
wore.  Perhaps,  indeed,  in  the  absence  of  Rienzi,  her 
weaker  nature  pictured  to  herself  the  triumph  of 
humbling  the  high-born  signoras,  and  eclipsing  the 
barbarous  magnificence  of  the  chiefs  of  Rome ;  but  in 
his  presence,  and  listening  to  his  more  elevated  and 

*  "  Quern  semper  abhorrui  sicut  cenum  "  is  the  expression 
used  by  Rienzi.  in  his  letter  to  his  friend  at  Avignon,  and 
which  was  probably  sincere.  Men  rarely  act  according  to  the 
bias  of  their  own  tastes. 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES        101 

generous  ambition,  as  yet  all  unsullied  by  one  private 
feeling  save  the  hope  of  her,  her  higher  sympathies 
were  enlisted  with  his  schemes,  her  mind  aspired  to 
raise  itself  to  the  height  of  his,  and  she  thought  less  of 
her  own  rise  than  of  his  glory.  It  was  sweet  to  her 
pride  to  be  the  sole  confidante  of  his  most  secret 
thoughts,  as  of  his  most  hardy  undertakings;  to  see 
bared  .before  her  that  intricate  and  plotting  spirit;  to 
be  admitted  even  to  the  knowledge  of  its  doubts  and 
weakness,  as  of  its  heroism  and  power. 

Nothing  could  be  more  contrasted  than  the  loves 
of  Rienzi  and  Nina,  and  those  of  Adrian  and  Irene : 
in  the  latter  all  were  the  dreams,  the  phantasies,  the 
extravagance,  of  youth;  they  never  talked  of  the 
future;  they  mingled  no  other  aspirations  with  those 
of  love.  Ambition,  glory,  the  world's  high  objects, 
were  nothing  to  them  when  together;  their  love  had 
swallowed  up  the  world,  and  left  nothing  visible  be- 
neath the  sun,  save  itself.  But  the  passion  of  Nina  and 
her  lover  was  that  of  more  complicated  natures  and 
more  mature  years :  it  was  made  up  of  a  thousand 
feelings,  each  naturally  severed  from  each,  but  com- 
pelled into  one  focus  by  the  mighty  concentration  of 
love  ;  their  talk  was  of  the  world ;  it  was  from  the  world 
that  they  drew  the  aliment  which  sustained  it ;  it  was 
of  the  future  they  spoke  and  thought;  of  its  dreams 
and  imagined  glories  they  made  themselves  a  home 
and  altar;  their  love  had  in  it  more  of  the  Intel- 
lectual than  that  of  Adrian  and  Irene ;  it  was  more 
fitted  for  this  hard  earth ;  it  had  in  it,  also,  more  of 
the  leaven  of  the  later  and  iron  days,  and  less  of 
poetry  and  the  first  golden  age. 

"  And  must  thou  leave  me  now  ?  "  said  Nina,  her 
cheek  no  more  averted  from  his  lips,  nor  her  form 


102  RIENZI 

from  his  parting  embrace.  "  The  moon  is  high  yet ; 
it  is  but  a  little  hour  thou  hast  given  me." 

"  An  hour !  Alas !  "  said  Rienzi,  "  it  is  near  upon 
midnight — our  friends  await  me." 

"  Go,  then,  my  soul's  best  half !  go ;  Nina  shall  not 
detain  thee  one  moment  from  those  higher  objects 
which  make  thee  so  dear  to  Nina.  When — when  shall 
we  meet  again !  " 

"  Not,"  said  Rienzi,  proudly,  and  with  all  his  soul 
upon  his  brow,  "  not  thus,  by  stealth !  no !  nor  as  I  thus 
have  met  thee,  the  obscure  and  contemned  bondsman ! 
When  next  thou  seest  me,  it  shall  be  at  the  head  of 
the  sons  of  Rome !  her  champion !  her  restorer ! 
or "  said  he,  sinking  his  voice — 

"  There  is  no  or! "  interrupted  Nina,  weaving  her 
arms  round  him,  and  catching  his  enthusiasm ;  "  thou 
hast  uttered  thine  own  destiny !  " 

"  One  kiss  more ! — farewell ! — the  tenth  day  from 
the  morrow  shines  upon  the  restoration  of  Rome ! " 


CHAPTER    XII 

THE    STRANGE    ADVENTURES    THAT    BEFEL    WALTER    DE 
MONTREAL 

It  was  upon  that  same  evening,  and  while  the  earlier 
stars  yet  shone  over  the  city,  that  Walter  de  Montreal, 
returning,  alone,  to  the  convent  then  associated  with 
the  church  of  Santa  Maria  del  Priorta  (both  of  which 
belonged  to  the  Knights  of  the  Hospital,  and  in  the 
first  of  which  Montreal  had  taken  his  lodgment), 
paused  amidst  the  ruins  and  desolation  which  lay 
around  his  path.  Though  little  skilled  in  the  classic 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES        103 

memories  and  associations  of  the  spot,  he  could  not 
but  be  impressed  with  the  surrounding  witnesses  of 
departed  empire;  the  vast  skeleton,  as  it  were,  of  the 
dead  giantess. 

"  Now,"  thought  he,  as  he  gazed  around  upon  the 
roofless  columns  and  shattered  walls,  everywhere  vis- 
ible, over  which  the  starlight  shone,  ghastly  and  trans- 
parent, backed  by  the  frowning  and  embattled  for- 
tresses of  the  Frangipani,  half  hid  by  the  dark  foliage 
that  sprung  up  amidst  the  very  fanes  and  palaces  of 
old — Nature  exulting  over  the  frailer  Art ;  "  now," 
thought  he,  "  bookmen  would  be  inspired,  by  this 
scene,  with  fantastic  and  dreaming  visions  of  the  past. 
But  to  me  these  monuments  of  high  ambition  and 
royal  splendour  create  only  images  of  the  future. 
Rome  may  yet  be,  with  her  seven-hilled  diadem,  as 
Rome  has  been  before,  the  prize  of  the  strongest  hand 
and  the  boldest  warrior, — revived,  not  by  her  own 
degenerate  sons,  but  the  infused  blood  of  a  new  race. 
William  the  Bastard  could  scarce  have  found  the 
hardy  Englishers  so  easy  a  conquest  as  Walter  the 
Well-born  may  find  these  eunuch  Romans.  And 
which  conquest  were  the  more  glorious, — the  bar- 
barous Isle,  or  the  Metropolis  of  the  World?  Short 
step  from  the  general  to  the  podesta — shorter  step 
from  the  podesta  to  the  king !  " 

While  thus  revolving  his  wild,  yet  not  altogether 
chimerical  ambition,  a  quick  light  step  was  heard 
amidst  the  long  herbage,  and,  looking  up,  Montreal 
perceived  the  figure  of  a  tall  female  descending  from 
that  part  of  the  hill  then  covered  by  many  convents, 
towards  the  base  of  the  Aventine.  She  supported  her 
steps  with  a  long  staff,  and  moved  with  such  elasticity 
and  erectness,  that  now,  as  her  face  became  visible  by 


104  RIENZI 

the  starlight,  it  was  surprising  to  perceive  that  it  was 
the  face  of  one  advanced  in  years, — a  harsh,  proud 
countenance,  withered,  and  deeply  wrinkled,  but  not 
without  a  certain  regularity  of  outline. 

"  Merciful  Virgin !  "  cried  Montreal,  starting  back 
as  that  face  gleamed  upon  him  :  "  is  it  possible  ?  It  is 
she  !— it  is " 

He  sprung  forward,  and  stood  right  before  the  old 
woman,  who  seemed  equally  surprised,  though  more 
dismayed  at  the  sight  of  Montreal. 

"  I  have  sought  thee  for  years,"  said  the  Knight, 
first  breaking  the  silence ;  "  years,  long  years, — thy 
conscience  can  tell  thee  why." 

"  Mine,  man  of  blood !  "  cried  the  female,  trembling 
with  rage  or  fear ;  "  darest  thou  talk  of  conscience  ? 
Thou,  the  dishonourer — the  robber — the  professed 
homicide !  Thou,  disgrace  to  knighthood  and  to  birth ! 
Thou,  with  the  cross  of  chastity  and  of  peace  upon  thy 
breast !  Thou  talk  of  conscience,  hypocrite ! — thou  ?  " 

"  Lady — lady !  "  said  Montreal,  deprecatingly,  and 
almost  quailing  beneath  the  fiery  passion  of  that  feeble 
woman,  "  I  have  sinned  against  thee  and  thine.  But 
remember  all  my  excuses ! — early  love — fatal  obstacles 
— rash  vow — irresistible  temptation !  Perhaps,"  he 
added,  in  a  more  haughty  tone,  "  perhaps,  yet  I  may 
have  the  power  to  atone  my  error,  and  wring,  with 
mailed  hand,  from  the  successor  of  St.  Peter,  who  hath 
power  to  loose  as  to  bind " 

"Perjured  and  abandoned!"  interrupted  the  female; 
"  dost  thou  dream  that  violence  can  purchase  absolu- 
tion, or  that  thou  canst  ever  atone  the  past?  a  noble 
name  disgraced,  a  father's  broken  heart  and  dying 
curse!  Yes,  that  curse,  I  hear  it  now!  it  rings  upon 
me  thrillingly,  as  when  I  watched  the  expiring  clay! 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES        105 

it  cleaves  to  thee — it  pursues  thee — it  shall  pierce  thee 
through  thy  corselet — it  shall  smite  thee  in  the 
meridian  of  thy  power!  Genius  wasted — ambition 
blasted — penitence  deferred — a  life  of  brawls,  and  a 
death  of  shame — thy  destruction  the  offspring  of  thy 
crime ! — To  this,  to  this,  an  old  man's  curse  hath 
doomed  thee ! — AND  THOU  ART  DOOMED  !  " 

These  words  were  rather  shrieked  than  spoken :  and 
the  flashing  eye,  the  lifted  hand,  the  dilated  form  of  the 
speaker — the  hour — the  solitude  of  the  ruins  around 
— all  conspired  to  give  to  the  fearful  execration  the 
character  of  prophecy.  The  warrior,  against  whose 
undaunted  breast  a  hundred  spears  had  shivered  in 
vain,  fell  appalled  and  humbled  to  the  ground.  He 
seized  the  hem  of  his  fierce  denouncer's  robe,  and 
cried,  in  a  choked  and  hollow  voice,  "  Spare  me !  spare 
me!  " 

"  Spare  thee  !  "  said  the  unrelenting  crone  ;  "  hast 
thou  ever  spared  man  in  thy  hatred,  or  woman  in  thy 
lust  ?  Ah,  grovel  in  the  dust ! — crouch — crouch  ! — 
wild  beast  as  thou  art ;  whose  sleek  skin  and  beautiful 
hues  have  taught  the  unwary  to  be  blind  to  the  talons 
that  rend,  and  the  grinders  that  devour; — crouch,  that 
the  foot  of  the  old  and  impotent  may  spurn  thee !  " 

"  Hag !  "  cried  Montreal,  in  the  reaction  of  sudden 
fury  and  maddened  pride,  springing  up  to  the  full 
height  of  his  stature.  "  Hag !  thou  hast  passed  the 
limits  to  which,  remembering  who  thou  art,  my  for- 
bearance gave  the  licence.  I  had  well-nigh  forgot 
that  thou  hadst  assumed  my  part — /  am  the  Accuser ! 
Woman! — the  boy! — shrink  not!  equivocate  not!  lie 
not ! — thou  wert  the  thief !  " 

"  I  was.     Thou  taughtest  me  the  lesson  how  to  steal 


106  RIENZI 

"  Render — restore  .him !  "  interrupted  Montreal, 
stamping  on  the  ground  with  such  force  that  the  splin- 
ters of  the  marble  fragments  on  which  he  stood  shiv- 
ered under  his  armed  heel. 

The  woman  little  heeded  a  violence  at  which  the 
fiercest  warrior  of  Italy  might  have  trembled ;  but  she 
did  not  make  an  immediate  answer.  The  character  of 
her  countenance  altered  from  passion  into  an  expres- 
sion of  grave,  intent,  and  melancholy  thought.  At 
length  she  replied  to  Montreal ;  whose  hand  had  wan- 
dered to  his  dagger-hilt,  with  the  instinct  of  long  habit, 
whenever  enraged  or  thwarted,  rather  than  from  any 
design  of  blood;  which,  stern  and  vindictive  as  he 
was,  he  would  have  been  incapable  of  forming  against 
any  woman, — much  less  against  the  one  then  before 
him. 

"  Walter  de  Montreal,"  said  she,  in  a  voice  so  calm 
that  it  almost  sounded  like  that  of  compassion,  "  the 
boy,  I  think,  has  never  known  brother  or  sister:  the 
only  child  of  a  once  haughty  and  lordly  race,  on  both 
sides,  though  now  on  both  dishonoured — nay,  why  so 
impatient  ?  thou  wilt  soon  learn  the  worst — the  boy  is 
dead!" 

"  Dead ! "  repeated  Montreal,  recoiling  and  grow- 
ing pale  ;  "  dead ! — no,  no — say  not  that !  He  has  a 
mother, — you  know  he  has! — a  fond,  meekhearted, 
anxious,  hoping  mother ! — no ! — no,  he  is  not  dead !  " 

"  Thou  canst  feel  then,  for  a  mother  ?  "  said  the  old 
woman,  seemingly  touched  by  the  tone  of  the  Pro- 
venc.al.  "  Yet,  bethink  thee ;  is  it  not  better  that  the 
grave  should  save  him  from  a  life  of  riot,  of  bloodshed, 
and  of  crime?  Better  to  sleep  with  God  than  to  wake 
with  the  fiends !  " 

"  Dead  ?  "    echoed    Montreal ;    "  dead ! — the    pretty 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES        107 

one  !  so  young ! — those  eyes — the  mother's  eyes — 
closed  so  soon  ?  " 

"  Hast  thou  aught  else  to  say  ?  Thy  sight  scares 
my  very  womanhood  from  my  soul ! — let  me  be  gone." 

"  Dead ! — may  I  believe  thee  ?  or  dost  thou  mock 
me  ?  Thou  has  uttered  thy  curse,  hearken  to  my  warn- 
ing : — If  thou  hast  lied  in  this,  thy  last  hour  shall  dis- 
may thee,  and  thy  death-bed  shall  be  the  death-bed  of 
despair ! " 

"  Thy  lips,"  replied  the  female,  with  a  scornful  smile, 
"  are  better  adapted  for  lewd  vows  to  unhappy 
maidens,  than  for  the  denunciations  which  sound  sol- 
emn only  when  coming  from  the  good.  Farewell !  " 

"  Stay !  inexorable  woman  !  stay ! — where  sleeps  he  ? 
Masses  shall  be  sung !  priests  shall  pray ! — the  sins  of 
the  father  shall  not  be  visited  on  that  young  head !  " 

"  At  Florence ! "  returned  the  woman,  hastily. 
"  But  no  stone  records  the  departed  one ! — The  dead 
boy  had  no  name !  " 

Waiting  for  no  further  questionings,  the  woman  now 
passed  on, — pursued  her  way ; — and  the  long  herbage, 
and  the  winding  descent,  soon  snatched  her  ill-omened 
apparition  from  the  desolate  landscape. 

Montreal,  thus  alone,  sunk  with  a  deep  and  heavy 
sigh  upon  the  ground,  covered  his  face  with  his  hands, 
and  burst  into  an  agony  of  grief ;  his  chest  heaved,  his 
whole  frame  trembled,  and  he  wept  and  sobbed  aloud, 
with  all  the  fearful  vehemence  of  a  man  whose  pas- 
sions are  strong  and  fierce,  but  to  whom  the  violence 
of  grief  alone  is  novel  and  unfamiliar. 

He  remained  thus,  prostrate  and  unmanned,  for  a 
considerable  time,  growing  slowly  and  gradually  more 
calm  as  tears  relieved  his  emotion ;  and,  at  length, 
rather  indulging  a  gloomy  reverie  than  a  passionate 


io8  RIENZI 

grief.  The  moon  was  high  and  the  hour  late  when 
he  arose,  and  then  few  traces  of  the  past  excitement 
remained  upon  his  countenance;  for  Walter  de  Mon- 
treal was  not  of  that  mould  in  which  woe  can  force  a 
settlement,  or  to  which  any  affliction  can  bring  the 
continued  and  habitual  melancholy  that  darkens  those 
who  feel  more  enduringly,  though  with  emotions  less 
stormy.  His  were  the  elements  of  the  true  Franc 
character,  though  carried  to  excess :  his  sternest  and 
his  deepest  qualities  were  mingled  with  fickleness  and 
caprice ;  his  profound  sagacity  often  frustrated  by  a 
whim ;  his  towering  ambition  deserted  for  some  friv- 
olous temptation ;  and  his  elastic,  sanguine,  and  high- 
spirited  nature,  faithful  only  to  the  desire  of  military 
glory,  to  the  poetry  of  a  daring  and  stormy  life,  and 
to  the  susceptibilities  of  that  tender  passion  without 
whose  colourings  no  portrait  of  chivalry  is  complete, 
and  in  which  he  was  capable  of  a  sentiment,  a  tender- 
ness, and  a  loyal  devotion,  which  could  hardly  have 
been  supposed  compatible  with  his  reckless  levity  and 
his  undisciplined  career. 

"  Well,"  said  he,  as  he  rose  slowly,  folded  his  mantle 
round  him,  and  resumed  his  way,  "  it  was  not  for 
myself  I  grieved  thus.  But  the  pang  is  past,  and  the 
worst  is  known.  Now,  then,  back  to  those  things  that 
never  die — restless  projects  and  daring  schemes. 
That  hag's  curse  keeps  my  blood  cold  still,  and  this 
solitude  has  something  in  it  weird  and  awful.  Ha ! — 
what  sudden  light  is  that?" 

The  light  which  caught  Montreal's  eye  broke  forth 
almost  like  a  star,  scarcely  larger,  indeed,  but  more 
red  and  intense  in  its  ray.  Of  itself  it  was  nothing 
uncommon,  and  might  have  shone  either  from  convent 
or  cottage.  But  it  streamed  from  a  part  of  the  Aven- 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES        109 

tine  which  contained  no  habitations  of  the  living,  but 
only  the  empty  ruins  and  shattered  porticoes,  of  which 
even  the  names  and  memories  of  the  ancient  inhabit- 
ants were  dead.  Aware  of  this,  Montreal  felt  a  slight 
awe  (as  the  beam  threw  its  steady  light  over  the  dreary 
landscape) ;  for  he  was  not  without  the  knightly  super- 
stitions of  the  age,  and  it  was  now  the  witching  hour 
consecrated  to  ghost  and  spirit.  But  fear,  whether  of 
this  world  or  the  next,  could  not  long  daunt  the  mind 
of  the  hardy  freebooter;  and,  after  a  short  hesita- 
tion, he  resolved  to  make  a  digression  from  his  way, 
and  ascertain  the  cause  of  the  phenomenon.  Uncon- 
sciously, the  martial  tread  of  the  barbarian  passed  over 
the  site  of  the  famed,  or  infamous  temple  of  Isis,  which 
had  once  witnessed  those  wildest  orgies  commemo- 
rated by  Juvenal ;  and  came  at  last  to  a  thick  and  dark 
copse,  from  an  opening  in  the  centre  of  which  gleamed 
the  mysterious  light.  Penetrating  the  gloomy  foliage, 
the  Knight  now  found  himself  before  a  large  ruin, 
gray  and  roofless,  from  within  which  came,  indistinct 
and  muffled,  the  sound  of  voices.  Through  a  rent  in 
the  wall,  forming  a  kind  of  casement,  and  about  ten 
feet  from  the  ground,  the  light  now  broke  over  the 
matted  and  rank  soil,  embedded,  as  it  were,  in  vast 
masses  of  shade,  and  streaming  through  a  mouldering 
portico  hard  at  hand.  The  Provengal  stood,  though 
he  knew  it  not,  on  the  very  place  once  consecrated 
by  the  Temple :  the  Portico  and  the  Library  of  Lib- 
erty (the  first  public  library  instituted  in  Rome).  The 
wall  of  the  ruin  was  covered  with  innumerable  creepers 
and  wild  brushwood,  and  it  required  but  little  agility 
on  the  part  of  Montreal,  by  the  help  of  these,  to  raise 
himself  to  the  height  of  the  aperture,  and,  concealed 
by  the  luxuriant  foliage,  to  gaze  within.  He  saw  a 


no  RIENZI 

table,  lighted  with  tapers,  in  the  centre  of  which  was 
a  crucifix ;  a  dagger,  unsheathed ;  an  open  scroll,  which 
the  event  proved  to  be  of  sacred  character;  and  a 
brazen  bowl.  About  a  hundred  men,  in  cloaks,  and 
witn  black  vizards,  stood  motionless  around ;  and  one, 
taller  than  the  rest,  without  disguise  or  mask — whose 
pale  brow  and  stern  features  seemed  by  that  light  yet 
paler  and  yet  more  stern — appeared  to  be  concluding 
some  address  to  his  companions. 

"  Yes,"  said  he,  "  in  the  church  of  the  Lateran  I  will 
make  the  last  appeal  to  the  people.  Supported  by  the 
Vicar  of  the  Pope,  myself  an  officer  of  the  Pontiff,  it 
will  be  seen  that  Religion  and  Liberty — the  heroes 
and  the  martyrs — are  united  in  one  cause.  After  that 
time,  words  are  idle ;  action  must  begin.  By  this  cru- 
cifix I  pledge  my  faith,  on  this  blade  I  devote  my  life, 
to  the  regeneration  of  Rome !  And  you  (then  no  need 
for  mask  or  mantle !),  when  the  solitary  trump  is  heard, 
when  the  solitary  horseman  is  seen, — you,  swear  to 
rally  round  the  standard  of  the  Republic,  and  resist — 
with  heart  and  hand,  with  life  and  soul,  in  defiance  oi 
death,  and  in  hope  of  redemption — the  arms  of  the 
oppressor !  " 

"  We  swear — we  swear !  "  exclaimed  every  voice  : 
and,  crowding  toward  cross  and  weapon,  the  tapers 
were  obscured  by  the  intervening  throng,  and  Mon- 
treal could  not  perceive  the  ceremony,  nor  hear  the 
muttered  formula  of  the  oath :  but  he  could  guess  that 
the  rite  then  common  to  conspiracies — and  which 
required  each  conspirator  to  shed  sonie  drops  of  his 
own  blood,  in  token  that  life  itself  was  devoted  to  the 
enterprise — had  not  been  omitted,  when,  the  group 
again  receding,  the  same  figure  as  before  had  ad- 
dressed the  meeting,  holding  on  high  the  bowl  with 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES        in 

both  hands, — while  from  the  left  arm,  which  was  bared, 
the  blood  weltered  slowly,  and  trickled,  drop  by  drop, 
upon  the  ground, — said,  in  a  solemn  voice  and  with 
upturned  eyes : 

"  Amidst  the  ruins  of  thy  temple,  O  Liberty !  we, 
Romans,  dedicate  to  thee  this  libation !  We,  be- 
friended and  inspired  by  no  unreal  and  fabled  idols, 
but  by  the  Lord  of  Hosts,  and  Him  who,  descending 
to  earth,  appealed  not  to  emperors  and  to  princes,  but 
to  the  fisherman  and  the  peasant, — giving  to  the  lowly 
and  the  poor  the  mission  of  Revelation."  Then,  turn- 
ing suddenly  to  his  companions,  as  his  features,  sin- 
gularly varying  in  their  character  and  expression, 
brightened,  from  solemn  awe,  into  a  martial  and 
kindling  enthusiasm,  he  cried  aloud,  "  Death  to  the 
Tyranny  !  Life  to  the  Republic !  "  The  effect  of  the 
transition  was  startling.  Each  man,  as  by  an  involun- 
tary and  irresistible  impulse,  laid  his  hand  upon  his 
sword,  as  he  echoed  the  sentiment ;  some,  indeed,  drew 
forth  their  blades,  as  if  for  instant  action. 

"  I  have  seen  enow:  they  .will  break  up  anon,"  said 
Montreal  to  himself :  "  and  I  would  rather  face  an 
army  of  thousands,  than  even  half-a-dozen  enthusiasts, 
so  inflamed, — and  I  thus  detected."  And,  with  this 
thought,  he  dropped  on  the  ground,  and  glided  away, 
as,  once  again,  through  the  still  midnight  air,  broke 
upon  his  ear  the  muffled  shout — "  DEATH  TO  THE 
TYRANNY  ! — LIFE  TO  THE  REPUBLIC  !  " 


BOOK    II 

THE  REVOLUTION 

"  Ogni  Lascivia,  ogni  male,  nulla  giustizia,  nullo  freno. 
Npn  c'era  piu  remedia,  ogni  persona  periva.  Allora  Cola  di 
Rienzi,"  &c. — Vita  di  Cola  di  Riensi,  lib.  i.  chap.  2. 

"  Every  kind  of  lewdness,  every  form  of  evil;  no  justice,  no 
restraint.  Remedy  there  was  none;  perdition  fell  on  all. 
Then  Cola  di  Rienzi,"  &c. — Life  of  Cola  di  Rienzi. 


CHAPTER   I 

THE   KNIGHT   OF   PROVENCE,   AND   HIS   PROPOSAL 

It  was  nearly  noon  as  Adrian  entered  the  gates  of 
the  palace  of  Stephen  Colonna.  The  palaces  of  the 
nobles  were  not  then  as  we  see  them  now,  receptacles 
for  the  immortal  canvas  of  Italian,  and  the  imperish- 
able sculpture  of  Grecian  Art ;  but  still  to  this  day  are 
retained  the  massive  walls,  and  barred  windows,  and 
spacious  courts,  which  at  that  time  protected  their 
rude  retainers.  High  above  the  gates  rose  a  lofty 
and  solid  tower,  whose  height  commanded  a  wide  view 
of  the  mutilated  remains  of  Rome :  the  gate  itself  was 
adorned  and  strengthened  on  either  side  by  columns 
of  granite,  whose  Doric  capitals  betrayed  the  sacrilege 
that  had  torn  them  from  one  of  the  many  temples  that 
had  formerly  crowded  the  sacred  Forum.  From  the 
same  spoils  came,  too,  the  vast  fragments  of  traver- 
tine which  made  the  walls  of  the  outer  court.  So 

112 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES        113 

common  at  that  day  were  these  barbarous  appropria- 
tions of  the  most  precious  monuments  of  art,  that  the 
columns  and  domes  of  earlier  Rome  were  regarded 
by  all  classes  but  as  quarries,  from  which  every  man 
was  free  to  gather  the  materials,  whether  for  his  castle 
or  his  cottage, — a  wantonness  of  outrage  far  greater 
than  the  Goths',  to  whom  a  later  age  would  fain  have 
attributed  all  the  disgrace,  and  which,  more  perhaps 
than  even  heavier  offences,  excited  the  classical  indig- 
nation of  Petrarch,  and  made  him  sympathise  with 
Rienzi  in  his  hopes  of  Rome.  Still  may  you  see  the 
churches  of  that  or  even  earlier  dates,  of  the  most 
shapeless  architecture,  built  on  the  sites,  and  from  the 
marbles,  consecrating  (rather  than  consecrated  by)  the 
names  of  Venus,  of  Jupiter,  of  Minerva.  The  pal- 
ace of  the  Prince  of  the  Orsini,  duke  of  Gravina, 
is  yet  reared  above  the  graceful  arches  (still  visible) 
of  the  theatre  of  Marcellus;  then  a  fortress  of  the 
Savelli. 

As  Adrian  passed  the  court,  a  heavy  waggon 
blocked  up  the  way,  laden  with  huge  marbles,  dug 
from  the  unexhausted  mine  of  the  Golden  House  of 
Nero:  they  were  intended  for  an  additional  tower, 
by  which  Stephen  Colonna  proposed  yet  more  to 
strengthen  the  tasteless  and  barbarous  edifice  in  which 
the  old  noble  maintained  the  dignity  of  outraging  the 
law. 

The  friend  of  Petrarch  and  the  pupil  of  Rienzi 
sighed  deeply  as  he  passed  this  vehicle  of  new  spolia- 
tions, and  as"  a  pillar  of  fluted  alabaster,  rolling  care- 
lessly from  the  waggon,  fell  with  a  loud  crash  upon 
the  pavement.  At  the  foot  of  the  stairs  grouped  some 
dozen  of  the  bandits  whom  the  old  Colonna  enter- 
tained :  they  were  playing  at  dice  upon  an  ancient 
8 


114  RIENZI 

tomb,  the  clear  and  deep  inscription  on  which  (so  dif- 
ferent from  the  slovenly  character  of  the  later  empire) 
bespoke  it  a  memorial  of  the  most  powerful  age  of 
Rome,  and  which,  now  empty  even  of  ashes,  and  upset, 
served  for  a  table  to  these  foreign  savages,  and  was 
strewn,  even  at  that  early  hour,  with  fragments  of 
meat  and  flasks  of  wine.  They  scarcely  stirred,  they 
scarcely  looked  up,  as  the  young  noble  passed  them; 
and  their  fierce  oaths  and  loud  ejaculations,  uttered  in 
a  northern  patois,  grated  harsh  upon  his  ear,  as  he 
mounted,  with  a  slow  step,  the  lofty  and  unclean  stairs. 
He  came  into  a  vast  ante-chamber,  which  was  half- 
filled  with  the  higher  class  of  the  patrician's  retainers : 
some  five  or  six  pages,  chosen  from  the  inferior 
noblesse,  congregated  by  a  narrow  and  deep-sunk 
casement,  were  discussing  the  grave  matters  of  gal- 
lantry and  intrigue ;  three  petty  chieftains  of  the  band 
below,  with  their  corselets  donned,  and  their  swords 
and  casques  beside  them,  were  sitting,  stolid  and 
silent,  at  a  table,  in  the  middle  of  the  room,  and  might 
have  been  taken  for  automatons,  save  for  the  solemn 
regularity  with  which  they  ever  and  anon  lifted  to  their 
moustachioed  lips  their  several  goblets,  and  then,  with 
a  complacent  grunt,  re-settled  to  their  contemplations. 
Striking  was  the  contrast  which  their  northern  phlegm 
presented  to  a  crowd  of  Italian  clients,  and  petitioners, 
and  parasites,  who  walked  restlessly  to  and  fro,  talking 
loudly  to  each  other,  with  all  the  vehement  gestures 
and  varying  physiognomy  of  southern  vivacity.  There 
was  a  general  stir  and  sensation  as  Adrian  broke  upon 
this  miscellaneous  company.  The  bandit  captains 
nodded  their  heads  mechanically ;  the  pages  bowed, 
and  admired  the  fashion  of  his  plume  and  hose;  the 
clients,  and  petitioners,  and  parasites,  crowded  round 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES        115 

him,  each  with  a  separate  request  for  interest  with  his 
potent  kinsman.  Great  need  had  Adrian  of  his 
wonted  urbanity  and  address,  in  extricating  himself 
from  their  grasp ;  and  painfully  did  he  win,  at  last,  the 
low  and  narrow  door,  at  which  stood  a  tall  servitor, 
who  admitted  or  rejected  the  applicants,  according  to 
his  interest  or  caprice. 

"  Is  the  Baron  alone  ?  "  asked  Adrian. 

"  Why,  no,  my  Lord :  a  foreign  signor  is  with  him — 
but  to  you  he  is  of  course  visible." 

"  Well,  you  may  admit  me.  I  would  inquire  of  his 
health." 

The  servitor  opened  the  door — through  whose  aper- 
ture peered  many  a  jealous  and  wistful  eye — and  con- 
signed Adrian  to  the  guidance  of  a  page,  who,  older 
and  of  greater  esteem  than  the  loiterers  in  the  ante- 
room, was  the  especial  henchman  of  the  Lord  of  the 
Castle.  Passing  another,  but  empty  chamber,  vast 
and  dreary,  Adrian  found  himself  in  a  small  cabinet, 
and  in  the  presence  of  his  kinsman. 

Before  a  table,  bearing  the  implements  of  writing, 
sate  the  old  Colonna:  a  robe  of  rich  furs  and  velvet 
hung  loose  upon  his  tall  and  stately  frame :  from  a 
round  skull-cap,  of  comforting  warmth  and  crimson 
hue,  a  few  gray  locks  descended,  and  mixed  with  a 
long  and  reverent  beard.  The  countenance  of  the 
aged  noble,  who  had  long  passed  his  eightieth  year, 
still  retained  the  traces  of  a  comeliness  for  which  in 
earlier  manhood  he  was  remarkable.  His  eyes,  if 
deep-sunken,  were  still  keen  and  lively,  and  sparkled 
with  all  the  fire  of  youth ;  his  mouth  curved  upward 
in  a  pleasant,  though  half-satiric,  smile ;  and  his 
appearance  on  the  whole  was  prepossessing  and  com- 
manding, indicating  rather  the  high  blood,  the  shrewd 


Ii6  RIENZI 

wit,  and  the  gallant  valour  of  the  patrician,  than  his 
craft,  hypocrisy,  and  habitual  but  disdainful  spirit  of 
oppression. 

Stephen  Colonna,  without  being  absolutely  a  hero, 
was  indeed  far  braver  than  most  of  the  Romans, 
though  he  held  fast  to  the  Italian  maxim — never  to 
fight  an  enemy  while  it  is  possible  to  cheat  him.  Two 
faults,  however,  marred  the  effect  of  his  sagacity:  a 
supreme  insolence  of  disposition,  and  a  profound  belief 
in  the  lights  of  his  experience.  He  was  incapable  of 
analogy.  What  had  never  happened  in  his  time,  he 
was  perfectly  persuaded  never  could  happen.  Thus, 
though  generally  esteemed  an  able  diplomatist,  he  had 
the  cunning  of  the  intriguant,  and  not  the  providence 
of  a  statesman.  If,  however,  pride  made  him  arrogant 
in  prosperity,  it  supported  him  in  misfortune.  And  in 
the  earlier  vicissitudes  of  a  life  which  had  partly  been 
consumed  in  exile,  he  had  developed  many  noble  qual- 
ities of  fortitude,  endurance,  and  real  greatness  of  soul ; 
which  showed  that  his  failings  were  rather  acquired 
by  circumstance  than  derived  from  nature.  His 
numerous  and  high-born  race  were  proud  of  their 
chief;  and  with  justice;  for  he  was  the  ablest  and  most 
honoured,  not  only  of  the  direct  branch  of  the 
Colonna,  but  also,  perhaps,  of  all  the  more  powerful 
barons. 

Seated  at  the  same  table  with  Stephen  Colonna  was 
a  man  of  noble  presence,  of  about  three  or  four  and 
thirty  years  of  age,  in  whom  Adrian  instantly  recog- 
nised Walter  de  Montreal.  This  celebrated  knight 
was  scarcely  of  the  personal  appearance  which  might 
have  corresponded  with  the  terror  his  name  generally 
excited.  His  face  was  handsome,  almost  to  the  ex- 
treme of  womanish  delicacy.  His  fair  hair  waved 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES        117 

long  and  freely  over  a  white  and  unwrinkled  forehead : 
the  life  of  a  camp  and  the  suns  of  Italy  had  but  little 
embrowned  his  clear  and  healthful  complexion,  which 
retained  much  of  the  bloom  of  youth.  His  features 
were  aquiline  and  regular;  his  eyes,  of  a  light  hazel, 
were  large,  bright,  and  penetrating;  and  a  short,  but 
curled  beard  and  moustachio,  trimmed  with  soldier- 
like precision,  and  very  little  darker  than  the  hair, 
gave  indeed  a  martial  expression  to  his  comely  coun- 
tenance, but  rather  the  expression  which  might  have 
suited  the  hero  of  courts  and  tournaments,  than  the 
chief  of  a  brigand's  camp.  The  aspect,  manner,  and 
bearing,  of  the  Provencal  were  those  which  captivate 
rather  than  awe, — blending,  as  they  did,  a  certain 
military  frankness  with  the  easy  and  graceful  dignity 
of  one  conscious  of  gentle  birth,  and  accustomed  to 
mix,  on  equal  terms,  with  the  great  and  noble.  His 
form  happily  contrasted  and  elevated  the  character  of 
a  countenance  which  required  strength  and  stature  to 
free  its  uncommon  beauty  from  the  charge  of  effemi- 
nacy, being  of  great  height  and  remarkable  muscular 
power,  without  the  least  approach  to  clumsy  and 
unwieldy  bulk :  it  erred,  indeed,  rather  to  the  side  of 
leanness  than  flesh, — at  once  robust  and  slender.  But 
the  chief  personal  distinction  of  this  warrior,  the  most 
redoubted  lance  of  Italy,  was  an  air  and  carriage  of 
chivalric  and  heroic  grace,  greatly  set  off  at  this  time 
by  his  splendid  dress,  which  was  of  brown  velvet  sown 
with  pearls,  over  which  hung  the  surcoat  worn  by  the 
Knights  of  the  Hospital,  whereon  was  wrought,  in 
white,  the  eight-pointed  cross  that  made  the  badge  of 
his  order.  The  Knight's  attitude  was  that  of  earnest 
conversation,  bending  slightly  forward  towards  the 
Colonna,and  resting  both  his  hands — which  (according 


Ii8  RIENZI 

to  the  usual  distinction  of  the  old  Norman  race,*  from 
whom,  though  born  in  Provence,  Montreal  boasted  his 
descent)  were  small  and  delicate,  the  fingers  being 
covered  with  jewels,  as  was  the  fashion  of  the  day — 
upon  the  golden  hilt  of  an  enormous  sword,  on  the 
sheath  of  which  was  elaborately  wrought  the  silver 
lilies  that  made  the  device  of  the  Provenqal  Brother- 
hood of  Jerusalem. 

"  Good  morrow,  fair  kinsman ! "  said  Stephen. 
"  Seat  thyself,  I  pray ;  and  know  in  this  knightly  vis- 
itor the  celebrated  Sieur  de  Montreal." 

"  Ah,  my  Lord,"  said  Montreal,  smiling,  as  he 
saluted  Adrian ;  "  and  how  is  my  lady  at  home?  " 

"  You  mistake,  Sir  Knight,"  quoth  Stephen :  "  my 
young  kinsman  is  not  yet  married:  'faith,  as  Pope 
Boniface  remarked,  when  he  lay  stretched  on  a  sick 
bed,  and  his  confessor  talked  to  him  about  Abraham's 
bosom,  '  that  is  a  pleasure  the  greater  for  being  de- 
ferred.' " 

"  The  Signer  will  pardon  my  mistake,"  returned 
Montreal. 

"  But  not,"  said  Adrian,  "  the  neglect  of  Sir  Walter 
in  not  ascertaining  the  fact  in  person.  My  thanks  to 
him,  noble  kinsman,  are  greater  than  you  weet  of ;  and 
he  promised  to  visit  me,  that  he  might  receive  them 
at  leisure." 

"  I  assure  you,  Signor,"  answered  Montreal,  "  that 
I  have  not  forgotten  the  invitation ;  but  so  weighty 
hitherto  have  been  my  affairs  at  Rome,  that  I  have 

*  Small  hands  and  feet,  however  disproportioned  to  the 
rest  of  the  person,  were  at  that  time  deemed  no  less  a  dis- 
tinction of  the  well-born,  than  they  have  been  in  a  more  re- 
fined age.  Many  readers  will  remember  the  pain  occasioned 
to  Petrarch  by  his  tight  shoes.  The  supposed  beauty  of  this 
peculiarity  is  more  derived  from  the  feudal  than  the  classic 
time. 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES        119 

been  obliged  to  parley  with  my  impatience  to  better 
our  acquaintance." 

"  Oh,  ye  knew  each  other  before  ?  "  said  Stephen. 
"And  how?" 

"  My  Lord,  there  is  a  damsel  in  the  case ! "  replied 
Montreal.  "  Excuse  my  silence." 

"  Ah,  Adrian,  Adrian !  when  will  you  learn  my  con- 
tinence !  "  said  Stephen,  solemnly  stroking  his  gray 
beard.  "  What  an  example  I  set  you !  But  a  truce  to 
this  light  conversation, — let  us  resume  our  theme. 
You  must  know,  Adrian,  that  it  is  to  the  brave 
band  of  my  guest  I  am  indebted  for  those  val- 
iant gentlemen  below,  who  keep  Rome  so  quiet, 
though  my  poor  habitation  so  noisy.  He  has  called 
to  proffer  more  assistance,  if  need  be ;  and  to  advise 
me  on  the  affairs  of  Northern  Italy.  Continue,  I  pray 
thee,  Sir  Knight;  I  have  no  disguises  from  my  kins- 
man." 

"  Thou  seest,"  said  Montreal,  fixing  his  penetrating 
eyes  on  Adrian,  "  thou  seest,  doubtless,  my  Lord,  that 
Italy  at  this  moment  presents  to  us  a  remarkable  spec- 
tacle. It  is  a  contest  between  two  opposing  powers, 
which  shall  destroy  the  other.  The  one  power  is  that 
of  the  unruly  and  turbulent  people — a  power  which 
they  call  '  Liberty ' ;  the  other  power  is  that  of  the 
chiefs  and  princes — a  power  which  they  more  appro- 
priately call  '  Order.'  Between  these  parties  the  cities 
of  Italy  are  divided.  In  Florence,  in  Genoa,  in  Pisa,  for 
instance,  is  established  a  Free  State — a  Republic,  God 
wot!  and  a  more  riotous,  unhappy  state  of  govern- 
ment, cannot  well  be  imagined." 

"  That  is  perfectly  true,"  quoth  Stephen  ;  "  they  ban- 
ished my  own  first  cousin  from  Genoa." 

"  A  perpetual  strife,  in  short,"  continued  Montreal, 


120  RIENZI 

"  between  the  great  families ;  an  alternation  of  prose- 
cutions, and  confiscations,  and  banishments :  to-day, 
the  Guelfs  proscribe  the  Ghibellines — to-morrow,  the 
Ghibellines  drive  out  the  Guelfs.  This  may  be  liberty, 
but  it  is  the  liberty  of  the  strong  against  the  weak.  In 
the  other  cities,  as  Milan,  as  Verona,  as  Bologna,  the 
people  are  under  the  rule  of  one  man, — who  calls  him- 
self a  prince,  and  whom  his  enemies  call  a  tyrant. 
Having  more  force  than  any  other  citizen,  he  pre- 
serves a  firm  government ;  having  more  constant 
demand  on  his  intellect  and  energies  than  the  other 
citizens,  he  also  preserves  a  wise  one.  These  two 
orders  of  government  are  enlisted  against  each  other : 
whenever  the  people  in  the  one  rebel  against  their 
prince,  the  people  of  the  other — that  is  the  Free  States 
— send  arms  and  money  to  their  assistance." 

"  You  hear,  Adrian,  how  wicked  those  last  are," 
quoth  Stephen. 

"  Now  it  seems  to  me,"  continued  Montreal,  "  that 
this  contest  must  end  some  time  or  other.  All  Italy 
must  become  republican  or  monarchical.  It  is  easy 
to  predict  which  will  be  the  result." 

"  Yes,  Liberty  must  conquer  in  the  end ! "  said 
Adrian,  warmly. 

"  Pardon  me,  young  Lord ;  my  opinion  is  entirely 
the  reverse.  You  perceive  that  these  republics  are 
commercial, — are  traders;  they  esteem  wealth,  they 
despise  valour,  they  cultivate  all  trades  save  that  of 
the  armourer.  Accordingly,  how  do  they  maintain 
themselves  in  war?  By  their  own  citizens?  Not  a 
whit  of  it!  Either  they  send  to  some  foreign  chief, 
and  promise,  if  he  grant  them  his  protection,  the  prin- 
cipality of  the  city  for  five  or  ten  years  in  return ;  or 
else  they  borrow  from  some  hardy  adventurer,  like 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES        121 

myself,  as  many  troops  as  they  can  afford  to  pay  for. 
Is  it  not  so,  Lord  Adrian  ?  " 

Adrian  nodded  his  reluctant  assent. 

"  Well,  then,  it  is  the  fault  of  the  foreign  chief  if 
he  do  not  make  his  power  permanent ;  as  has  been 
already  done  in  States  once  free  by  the  Visconti  and 
the  Scalar  or  else  it  is  the  fault  of  the  captain  of  the 
mercenaries  if  he  do  not  convert  his  brigands  into  sen- 
ators, and  himself  into  a  king.  These  are  events  so 
natural,  that  one  day  or  other  they  will  occur  through- 
out all  Italy.  And  all  Italy  will  then  become  mon- 
archical. Now  it  seems  to  me  the  interest  of  all  the 
powerful  families — your  own,  at  Rome,  as  that  of  the 
Visconti  at  Milan — to  expedite  this  epoch,  and  to 
check,  while  you  yet  may  with  ease,  that  rebellious 
contagion  amongst  the  people  which  is  now  rapidly 
spreading,  and  which  ends  in  the  fever  of  licence  to 
them,  but  in  the  corruption  of  death  to  you.  In  these 
free  States,  the  nobles  are  the  first  to  suffer :  first  your 
privileges,  then  your  property,  are  swept  away.  Nay, 
in  Florence,  as  ye  well  know,  my  Lords,  no  noble  is 
even  capable  of  holding  the  meanest  office  in  the 
State!" 

"  Villains !  "  said  Colonna,  "  they  violate  the  first 
law  of  nature  !  " 

"  At  this  moment,"  resumed  Montreal,  who,  en- 
grossed with  his  subject,  little  heeded  the  interrup- 
tions he  received  from  the  holy  indignation  of  the 
Baron :  "  at  this  moment,  there  are  many — the  wisest, 
perhaps,  in  the  free  States — who  desire  to  renew  the  old 
Lombard  leagues,  in  defence  of  their  common  freedom 
everywhere,  and  against  whosoever  shall  aspire  to  be 
prince.  Fortunately,  the  deadly  jealousies  between 
these  merchant  States — the  base  plebeian  jealousies — 


122  RIENZI 

more  of  trade  than  of  glory — interpose  at  present  an 
irresistible  obstacle  to  this  design ;  and  Florence,  the 
most  stirring  and  the  most  esteemed  of  all,  is  happily 
so  reduced  by  reverses  of  commerce  as  to  be  utterly 
unable  to  follow  out  so  great  an  undertaking.  Now, 
then,  is  the  time  for  us,  my  Lords ;  while  these 
obstacles  are  so  great  for  our  foes,  now  is  the  time  for 
us  to  form  and  cement  a  counter-league  between  all 
the  princes  of  Italy.  To  you,  noble  Stephen,  I  have 
come,  as  your  rank  demands, — alone  of  all  the  barons 
of  Rome, — to  propose  to  you  this  honourable  union. 
Observe  what  advantages  it  proffers  to  your  house. 
The  popes  have  abandoned  Rome  for  ever;  there  is 
no  counterpoise  to  your  ambition, — there  need  be 
none  to  your  power.  You  see  before  you  the  exam- 
ples of  Visconti  and  Taddeo  di  Pepoli.  You  may 
found  in  Rome,  the  first  city  of  Italy,  a  supreme 
and  uncontrolled  principality,  subjugate  utterly  your 
weaker  rivals, — the  Savelli,  the  Malatesta,  the  Orsini, 
— and  leave  to  your  sons'  sons  an  hereditary  kingdom 
that  may  aspire  once  more,  perhaps,  to  the  empire  of 
the  world." 

Stephen  shaded  his  face  with  his  hand  as  he 
answered :  "  But  this,  noble  Montreal,  requires  means : 
— money  and  men." 

"  Of  the  last,  you  can  command  from  me  enow — my 
small  company,  the  best  disciplined,  can  (whenever  I 
please)  swell  to  the  most  numerous  in  Italy :  in  the 
first,  noble  Baron,  the  rich  house  of  Colonna  cannot 
fail ;  and  even  a  mortgage  on  its  vast  estates  may  be 
well  repaid  when  you  have  possessed  yourselves  of  the 
whole  revenues  of  Rome.  You  see,"  continued  Mon- 
treal, turning  to  Adrian,  in  whose  youth  he  expected  a 
more  warm  ally  than  in  his  hoary  kinsman :  "  you  see 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES        123 

at  a  glance  how  feasible  is  this  project,  and  what  a 
mighty  field  it  opens  to  your  House." 

"  Sir  Walter  de  Montreal,"  said  Adrian,  rising  from 
his  seat,  and  giving  vent  to  the  indignation  he  had  with 
difficulty  suppressed,  "  I  grieve  much  that,  beneath  the 
roof  of  the  first  citizen  of  Rome,  a  stranger  should 
attempt  thus  calmly,  and  without  interruption,  to 
excite  the  ambition  of  emulating  the  execrated  celeb- 
rity of  a  Visconti  or  a  Pepoli.  Speak,  my  Lord ! 
(turning  to  Stephen) — speak,  noble  kinsman !  and  tell 
this  Knight  of  Provence,  that  if  by  a  Colonna  the 
ancient  grandeur  of  Rome  cannot  be  restored,  it  shall 
not  be,  at  least,  by  a  Colonna  that  her  last  wrecks  of 
liberty  shall  be  swept  away." 

"  How  now,  Adrian  ! — how  now,  sweet  kinsman !  " 
said  Stephen,  thus  suddenly  appealed  to,  "  calm  thy- 
self, I  pr'ythee.  Noble  Sir  Walter,  he  is  young — 
young  and  hasty — he  means  not  to  offend  thee." 

"  Of  that  I  am  persuaded,"  returned  Montreal, 
coldly,  but  with  great  and  courteous  command  of  tem- 
per. "  He  speaks  from  the  impulse  of  the  moment, — 
a  praiseworthy  fault  in  youth.  It  was  mine  at  his  age, 
and  many  a  time  have  I  nearly  lost  my  life  for  the 
rashness.  Nay,  Signer,  nay! — touch  not  your  sword 
so  meaningly,  as  if  you  fancied  I  intimated  a  threat; 
far  from  me  such  presumption.  I  have  learned  suf- 
ficient caution,  believe  me,  in  the  wars,  not  wantonly 
to  draw  against  me  a  blade  which  I  have  seen  wielded 
against  such  odds." 

Touched,  despite  himself,  by  the  courtesy  of  the 
Knight,  and  the  allusion  to  a  scene  in  which,  perhaps, 
his  life  had  been  preserved  by  Montreal,  Adrian 
extended  his  hand  to  the  latter. 

"  I  was  to  blame  for  my  haste,"  said  he,  frankly ; 


124  RIENZI 

"  but  know,  by  my  very  heat,"  he  added  more  gravely, 
"  that  your  project  will  find  no  friends  among  the 
Colonna.  Nay,  in  the  presence  of  my  noble  kinsman, 
I  dare  to  tell  you,  that  could  even  his  high  sanction 
lend  itself  to  such  a  scheme,  the  best  hearts  of  his 
house  would  desert  him ;  and  I  myself,  his  kinsman, 
would  man  yonder  castle  against  so  unnatural  an 
ambition !  " 

A  slight  and  scarce  perceptible  cloud  passed  over 
Montreal's  countenance  at  these  words;  and  he  bit 
his  lip  ere  he  replied : 

"  Yet  if  the  Orsini  be  less  scrupulous,  their  first 
exertion  of  power  would  be  heard  in  the  crashing 
house  of  the  Colonna." 

"  Know  you,"  returned  Adrian,  "  that  one  of  our 
mottoes  is  this  haughty  address  to  the  Romans, — '  If 
we  fall,  ye  fall  also '  ?  And  better  that  fate,  than  a 
rise  upon  the  wrecks  of  our  native  city." 

"  Well,  well,  well !  "  said  Montreal,  re-seating  him- 
self, "  I  see  that  I  must  leave  Rome  to  herself, — the 
League  must  thrive  without  her  aid.  I  did  but  jest, 
touching  the  Orsini,  for  they  have  not  the  power  that 
would  make  their  efforts  safe.  Let  us  sweep,  then, 
our  past  conference  from  our  recollection.  It  is  the 
nineteenth,  I  think,  Lord  Colonna,  on  which  you  pro- 
pose to  repair  to  Corneto,  with  your  friends  and 
retainers,  and  on  which  you  have  invited  my  attend- 
ance ?  " 

"  It  is  on  that  day,  Sir  Knight,"  replied  the  Baron, 
evidently  much  relieved  by  the  turn  the  conversation 
had  assumed.  "  The  fact  is,  that  we  have  been  so 
charged  with  indifference  to  the  interests  of  the  good 
people,  that  I  strain  a  point  in  this  expedition  to  con- 
tradict the  assertion;  and  we  propose,  therefore,  to 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES        125 

escort  and  protect,  against  the  robbers  of  the  road,  a 
convoy  of  corn  to  Corneto.  In  truth,  I  may  add  an- 
other reason,  besides  fear  of  the  robbers,  that  makes 
me  desire  as  numerous  a  train  as  possible.  I  wish  to 
show  my  enemies,  and  the  people  generally,  the  solid 
and  growing  power  of  my  house ;  the  display  of  such 
an  armed  band  as  I  hope  to  levy,  will  be  a  magnificent 
occasion  to  strike  awe  into  the  riotous  and  refractory. 
Adrian,  you  will  collect  your  servitors,  I  trust,  on  that 
day ;  we  would  not  be  without  you." 

"  And  as  we  ride  along,  fair  Signer,"  said  Montreal, 
inclining  to  Adrian,  "  we  will  find  at  least  one  subject 
on  which  we  can  agree :  all  brave  men  and  true 
knights  have  one  common  topic, — and  its  name  is 
Woman.  You  must  make  me  acquainted  with  the 
names  of  the  fairest  dames  of  Rome ;  and  we  will  dis- 
cuss old  adventures  in  the  Parliament  of  Love,  and 
hope  for  new.  By  the  way,  I  suppose,  Lord  Adrian, 
you,  with  the  rest  of  your  countrymen,  are  Petrarch- 
stricken?  " 

"  Do  you  not  share  our  enthusiasm  ?  slur  not  so 
your  gallantry,  I  pray  you." 

"  Come,  we  must  not  again  disagree ;  but,  by  my 
halidame,  I  think  one  troubadour  roundel  worth  all 
that  Petrarch  ever  wrote.  He  has  but  borrowed  from 
our  knightly  poesy  to  disguise  it,  like  a  carpet  cox- 
comb." 

"  Well,"  said  Adrian,  gaily,  "  for  every  line  of  the 
troubadours  that  you  quote,  I  will  cite  you  another. 
I  will  forgive  you  for  injustice  to  Petrarch,  if  you  are 
just  to  the  troubadours." 

"  Just !  "  cried  Montreal,  with  real  enthusiasm :  "  I 
am  of  the  land,  nay,  the  very  blood  of  the  trouba- 
dour! But  we  grow  too  light  for  your  noble  kins- 


126  RIENZI 

man ;  and  it  is  time  for  me  to  bid  you,  for  the  present, 
farewell.  My  Lord  Colonna,  peace  be  with  you ;  fare- 
well, Sir  Adrian, — brother  mine  in  knighthood, — 
remember  your  challenge." 

And  with  an  easy  and  careless  grace  the  Knight  of 
St.  John  took  his  leave.  The  old  Baron,  making  a 
dumb  sign  of  excuse  to  Adrian,  followed  Montreal  into 
the  adjoining  room. 

"  Sir  Knight !  "  said  he,  "  Sir  Knight !  "  as  he  closed 
the  door  upon  Adrian,  and  then  drew  Montreal  to  the 
recess  of  the  casement, — "  a  word  in  your  ear.  Think 
not  I  slight  your  offer,  but  these  young  men  must  be 
managed ;  the  plot  is  great — noble — grateful  to  my 
heart ;  but  it  requires  time  and  caution.  I  have  many 
of  my  house,  scrupulous  as  yon  hot-skull,  to  win  over ; 
the  way  is  pleasant,  but  must  be  sounded  well  and 
carefully ;  you  understand  ?  " 

From  under  his  bent  brows,  Montreal  darted  one 
keen  glance  at  Stephen,  and  then  answered : 

"  My  friendship  for  you  dictated  my  offer.  The 
League  may  stand  without  the  Colonna, — beware  a 
time  when  the  Colonna  cannot  stand  without  the 
League.  My  Lord,  look  well  around  you ;  there  are 
more  freemen — ay,  bold  and  stirring  ones,  too — in 
Rome,  than  you  imagine.  Beware  Rienzi!  Adieu, 
we  meet  soon  again." 

Thus  saying,  Montreal  departed,  soliloquising  as  he 
passed  with  his  careless  step  through  the  crowded 
ante-room : 

"  I  shall  fail  here ! — these  caitiff  nobles  have  neither 
the  courage  to  be  great,  nor  the  wisdom  to  be  honest. 
Let  them  fall! — I  may  find  an  adventurer  from  the 
people,  an  adventurer  like  myself,  worth  them  all." 

No  sooner  had  Stephen  returned  to  Adrian  than  he 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES        127 

flung  his  arms  affectionately  round  his  ward,  who  was 
preparing  his  pride  for  some  sharp  rebuke  for  his 
petulance. 

"  Nobly  feigned, — admirable,  admirable  !  "  cried 
the  Baron ;  "  you  have  learned  the  true  art  of  a  states- 
man at  the  Emperor's  court.  I  always  thought  you 
would — always  said  it.  You  saw  the  dilemma  I  was 
in,  thus  taken  by  surprise  by  that  barbarian's  mad 
scheme ;  afraid  to  refuse, — more  afraid  to  accept.  You 
extricated  me  with  consummate  address :  that  passion, 
— so  natural  to  your  age, — was  a  famous  feint ;  drew 
off  the  attacks ;  gave  me  time  to  breathe  ;  allowed  me  to 
play  with  the  savage.  But  we  must  not  offend  him, 
you  know:  all  my  retainers  would  desert  me,  or  sell 
me  to  the  Orsini,  or  cut  my  throat,  if  he  but  held  up 
his  ringer.  Oh !  it  was  admirably  managed,  Adrian — 
admirably ! " 

"  Thank  Heaven ! "  said  Adrian,  with  some  dif- 
ficulty recovering  the  breath  which  his  astonishment 
had  taken  away,  "  you  do  not  think  of  embracing  that 
black  proposition  ?  " 

"  Think  of  it !  no,  indeed ! "  said  Stephen,  throwing 
himself  back  on  his  chair.  "  Why,  do  you  not  know 
my  age,  boy?  Hard  on  my  ninetieth  year,  I  should 
be  a  fool  indeed  to  throw  myself  into  such  a  whirl  of 
turbulence  and  agitation.  I  want  to  keep  what  I  have, 
not  risk  it  by  grasping  more.  Am  I  not  the  beloved 
of  the  pope?  shall  I  hazard  his  excommunication? 
Am  I  not  the  most  powerful  of  the  nobles?  should  I 
be  more  if  I  were  king?  At  my  age,  to  talk  to  me  of 
such  stuff! — the  man's  an  idiot.  Besides,"  added  the 
old  man,  sinking  his  voice,  and  looking  fearfully 
round,  "  if  I  were  a  king,  my  sons  might  poison  me  for 
the  succession.  They  are  good  lads,  Adrian,  very! 


128  RIENZI 

But  such  a  temptation ! — I  would  not  throw  it  in  their 
way ;  these  gray  hairs  have  experience !  Tyrants 
don't  die  a  natural  death ;  no,  no !  Plague  on  the 
Knight,  say  I ;  he  has  already  cast  me  into  a  cold 
sweat." 

Adrian  gazed  on  the  working  features  of  the  old 
man,  whose  selfishness  thus  preserved  him  from  crime. 
He  listened  to  his  concluding  words — full  of  the  dark 
truth  of  the  times ;  and  as  the  high  and  pure  ambition 
of  Rienzi  flashed  upon  him  in  contrast,  he  felt  that 
he  could  not  blame  its  fervour  or  wonder  at  its  excess. 

"  And  then,  too,"  resumed  the  Baron,  speaking 
more  deliberately  as  he  recovered  his  self-possession, 
"  this  man,  by  way  of  a  warning,  shows  me,  at  a 
glance,  his  whole  ignorance  of  the  state.  What  think 
you?  he  has  mingled  with  the  mob,  and  taken  their 
rank  breath  for  power;  yes,  he  thinks  words  are 
soldiers,  and  bade  me — me,  Stephen  Colonna — beware 
— of  whom,  think  you  ?  No,  you  will  never  guess ! — 
of  that  speech-maker,  Rienzi !  my  own  old  jesting 
guest!  Ha!  ha!  ha! — the  ignorance  of  these  barba- 
rians !  ha !  ha !  ha !  "  and  the  old  man  laughed  till  the 
tears  ran  down  his  cheeks. 

"  Yet  many  of  the  nobles  fear  that  same  Rienzi," 
said  Adrian,  gravely. 

"  Ah  !  let  them,  let  them ! — they  have  not  our  experi- 
ence— our  knowledge  of  the  world,  Adrian.  Tut, 
man, — when  did  declamation  ever  overthrow  castles, 
and  conquer  soldiery?  I  like  Rienzi  to  harangue  the 
mob  about  old  Rome,  and  such  stuff;  it  gives  them 
something  to  think  of  and  prate  about,  and  so  all  their 
fierceness  evaporates  in  words ;  they  might  burn  a 
house  if  they  did  not  hear  a  speech.  But,  now  I  am 
on  that  score,  I  must  own  the  pedant  has  grown  impu- 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES        129 

dent  in  his  new  office;  here,  here, — I  received  this 
paper  ere  I  rose  to-day.  I  hear  a  similar  insolence 
has  been  shown  to  all  the  nobles.  Read  it,  will  you," 
and  the  Colonna  put  a  scroll  into  his  kinsman's  hand. 

"  I  have  received  the  like,"  said  Adrian,  glancing 
at  it.  "  It  is  a  request  of  Rienzi's  to  attend  at  the 
Church  of  St.  John  of  Lateran,  to  hear  explained  the 
inscription  on  a  Table  just  discovered.  It  bears,  he 
saith,  the  most  intimate  connexion  with  the  welfare 
and  state  of  Rome." 

"  Very  entertaining,  I  dare  to  say,  to  professors  and 
bookmen.  Pardon  me,  kinsman ;  I  forgot  your  taste 
for  these  things ;  and  my  son,  Gianni,  too,  shares  your 
fantasy.  Well,  well !  it  is  innocent  enough  !  Go — the 
man  talks  well." 

"  Will  you  not  attend,  too  ?  " 

"  I — my  dear  boy — I !  "  said  the  old  Colonna,  open- 
ing his  eyes  in  such  astonishment  that  Adrian  could 
not  help  laughing  at  the  simplicity  of  his  own  ques- 
tion. 


CHAPTER    II 

THE    INTERVIEW,    AND    THE    DOUBT 

As  Adrian  turned  from  the  palace  of  his  guardian, 
and  bent  his  way  in  the  direction  of  the  Forum,  he 
came  somewhat  unexpectedly  upon  Raimond,  Bishop 
of  Orvietto,  who,  mounted  upon  a  low  palfrey,  and 
accompanied  by  some  three  or  four  of  his  waiting- 
men,  halted  abruptly  when  he  recognised  the  -young 
noble. 

"  Ah,  my  son  !  it  is  seldom  that  I  see  thee  :  how  fares 
it  with  thee? — well?  So,  so*  I  rejoice  to  hear  it. 

9 


130  RIENZI 

Alas !  what  a  state  of  society  is  ours,  when  compared 
to  the  tranquil  pleasures  of  Avignon !  There,  all  men 
who,  like  us,  are  fond  of  the  same  pursuits,  the  same 
studies,  dclicia:  nnisarum,  hum !  hum !  (the  Bishop  was 
proud  of  an  occasional  quotation,  right  or  wrong),  are 
brought  easily  and  naturally  together.  But  here  we 
scarcely  dare  stir  out  of  our  houses,  save  upon  great 
occasions.  But,  talking  of  great  occasions,  and  the 
Muses,  reminds  me  of  our  good  Rienzi's  invitation  to 
the  Lateran :  of  course  you  will  attend ;  'tis  a  mighty 
knotty  piece  of  Latin  he  proposes  to  solve — so  I  hear, 
at  least :  very  interesting  to  us,  my  son, — very !  " 

"  It  is  to-morrow,"  answered  Adrian.  "  Yes,  as- 
suredly ;  I  will  be  there." 

"  And  harkye,  my  son,"  said  the  Bishop,  resting  his 
hand  affectionately  on  Adrian's  shoulder,  "  I  have 
reason  to  hope  that  he  will  remind  our  poor  citizens  of 
the  Jubilee  for  the  year  Fifty,  and  stir  them  towards 
clearing  the  road  of  the  brigands :  a  necessary  injunc- 
tion, and  one  to  be  heeded  timeously;  for  who  will 
come  here  for  absolution  when  he  stands  a  chance  of 
rushing  unannealed  upon  purgatory  by  the  way  ?  You 
have  heard  Rienzi, — ay  ?  quite  a  Cicero — quite !  Well, 
Heaven  bless  you,  my  son !  you  will  not  fail  ?  " 

"  Nay,  not  I !  " 

"  Yet,  stay — a  word  with  you :  just  suggest  to  all 
whom  you  may  meet  the  advisability  of  a  full  meeting ; 
it  looks  well  for  the  city  to  show  respect  to  letters." 

"  To  say  nothing  of  the  Jubilee,"  added  Adrian, 
smiling. 

"  Ah,  to  say  nothing  of  the  Jubilee — very  good ! 
Adieu  for  the  present !  "  And  the  Bishop,  resettling 
himself  on  his  saddle,  ambled  solemnly  on  to  visit  his 
various  friends,  and  press  them  to  the  meeting. 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES        131 

Meanwhile,  Adrian  continued  his  course  till  he  had 
passed  the  Capitol,  the  Arch  of  Severus,  the  crumbling 
columns  of  the  fane  of  Jupiter,  and  found  himself 
amidst  the  long  grass,  the  whispering  reeds,  and  the 
neglected  vines  that  wave  over  the  now-vanished 
pomp  of  the  Golden  House  of  Nero.  Seating  himself 
on  a  fallen  pillar — by  that  spot  where  the  traveller 
descends  to  the  (so-called)  Baths  of  Livia — he  looked 
impatiently  to  the  sun,  as  if  to  blame  it  for  the  slow- 
ness of  its  march. 

Not  long,  however,  had  he  to  wait  before  a  light 
step  was  heard  crushing  the  fragrant  grass ;  and 
presently  through  the  arching  vines  gleamed  a  face 
that  rrtight  well  have  seemed  the  nymph,  the  goddess 
of  the  scene. 

"  My  beautiful !  my  Irene ! — how  shall  I  thank 
thee!" 

It  was  long  before  the  delighted  lover  suffered  him- 
self to  observe  upon  Irene's  face  a  sadness  that  did  not 
usually  cloud  it  in  his  presence.  Her  voice,  too, 
trembled ;  her  words  seemed  constrained  and  cold. 

"  Have  I  offended  thee  ?  "  he  asked ;  "  or  what  less 
misfortune  hath  occurred  ?  " 

Irene  raised  her  eyes  to  her  lover's,  and  said,  look- 
ing at  him  earnestly,  "  Tell  me,  my  Lord,  in  sober  and 
simple  truth,  tell  me,  would  it  grieve  thee  much  were 
this  to  be  our  last  meeting?  " 

Paler  than  the  marble  at  his  feet  grew  the  dark 
cheek  of  Adrian.  It  was  some  moments  ere  he  could 
reply,  and  he  did  so  then  with  a  forced  smile  and  a 
quivering  lip. 

"  Jest  not  so,  Irene !  Last ! — that  is  not  a  word  for 
us!" 

"  But  hear  me,  my  Lord " 


132  RIENZI 

"  Why  so  cold  ? — call  me  Adrian ! — friend ! — lover ! 
or  be  dumb !  " 

"  Well,  then,  my  soul's  soul !  my  all  of  hope !  my 
life's  life !  "  exclaimed  Irene,  passionately,  "  hear  me ! 
I  fear  that  we  stand  at  this  moment  upon  some  gulf 
whose  depth  I  see  not,  but  which  may  divide  us  for 
ever!  Thou  knowest  the  real  nature  of  my  brother, 
and  dost  not  misread  him  as  many  do.  Long  has  he 
planned,  and  schemed,  and  communed  with  himself, 
and,  feeling  his  way  amidst  the  people,  prepared  the 

path  to  some  great  design.  But  now (thou  wilt 

not  betray — thou  wilt  not  injure  him? — he  is  thy 
friend !)" 

"And  thy  brother!  I  would  give  my  life  for  his! 
Say  on!" 

"  But  now,  then,"  resumed  Irene,  "  the  time  for  that 
enterprise,  whatever  it  be,  is  coming  fast.  I  know 
not  of  its  exact  nature,  but  I  know  that  it  is  against 
the  nobles — against  thy  order — against  thy  house 
itself!  If  it  succeed — oh,  Adrian!  thou  thyself  mayst 
not  be  free  from  danger;  and  my  name,  at  least,  will 
be  coupled  with  the  name  of  thy  foes.  If  it  fail, — my 
brother,  my  bold  brother,  is  swept  away !  He  will  fall 
a  victim  to  revenge  or  justice,  call  it  as  you  will.  Your 
kinsman  may  be  his  judge — his  executioner;  and 
I — even  if  I  should  yet  live  to  mourn  over  the  boast 
and  glory  of  my  humble  line — could  I  permit  myself 
to  love,  to  see,  one  in  whose  veins  flowed  the  blood 
of  his  destroyer  ?  Oh !  I  am  wretched ! — wretched ! 
these  thoughts  make  me  well-nigh  mad ! "  and  wring- 
ing her  hands  bitterly  Irene  sobbed  aloud. 

Adrian  himself  was  struck  forcibly  by  the  picture 
thus  presented  to  him,  although  the  alternative  it 
embraced  had  often  before  forced  itself  dimly  on  his 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES        133 

mind.  It  was  true,  however,  that,  not  seeing  the 
schemes  of  Rienzi  backed  by  any  physical  power,  and 
never  yet  having  witnessed  the  mighty  force  of  a 
moral  revolution,  he  did  not  conceive  that  any  rise  to 
which  he  might  instigate  the  people  could  be  per- 
manently successful :  and,  as  for  his  punishment,  in 
that  city,  where  all  justice  was  the  slave  of  interest, 
Adrian  knew  himself  powerful  enough  to  obtain  for- 
giveness even  for  the  greatest  of  all  crimes — armed 
insurrection  against  the  nobles.  As  these  thoughts 
recurred  to  him,  he  gained  the  courage  to  console  and 
cheer  Irene.  But  his  efforts  were  only  partially  suc- 
cessful. Awakened  by  her  fears  to  that  consideration 
of  the  future  which  hitherto  she  had  forgotten,  Irene, 
for  the  first  time,  seemed  deaf  to  the  charmer's  voice. 

"  Alas ! "  said  she,  sadly,  "  even  at  the  best,  what 
can  this  love,  that  we  have  so  blindly  encouraged — 
what  can  it  end  in  ?  Thou  must  not  wed  with  one  like 
me  !  and  I !  how  foolish  I  have  been !  " 

"  Recall  thy  senses  then,  Irene,"  said  Adrian, 
proudly,  partly  perhaps  in  anger,  partly  in  his  experi- 
ence of  the  sex.  "  Love  another,  and  more  wisely,  if 
thou  wilt;  cancel  thy  vows  with  me,  and  continue  to 
think  it  a  crime  to  love,  and  a  folly  to  be  true! " 

"  Cruel !  "  said  Irene,  falteringly,  and  in  her  turn 
alarmed.  "  Dost  thou  speak  in  earnest  ?  " 

"  Tell  meK  ere  I  answer  you,  tell  me  this :  come 
death,  come  anguish,  come  a  whole  life  of  sorrow,  as 
the  end  of  this  love,  wouldst  thou  yet  repent  that  thou 
hast  loved?  If  so,  thou  knowest  not  the  love  that  I 
feel  for  thee." 

"  Never !  never  can  I  repent ! "  said  Irene,  falling 
upon  Adrian's  neck ;  "  forgive  me  !  " 

"  But  is  there,  in  truth,"  said  Adrian,  a  little  while 


134  RIENZI 

after  this  lover-like  quarrel  and  reconciliation,  "  is 
there,  in  truth,  so  marked  a  difference  between  thy 
brother's  past  and  his  present  bearing?  How  know- 
est  thou  that  the  time  for  action  is  so  near?  " 

"  Because  now  he  sits  closeted  whole  nights  with  all 
ranks  of  men ;  he  shuts  up  his  books, — he  reads  no 
more, — but  when  alone,  walks  to  and  fro  his  chamber, 
muttering  to  himself.  Sometimes  he  pauses  before 
the  calendar,  which  of  late,  he  has  fixed  with  his  own 
hand  against  the  wall,  and  passes  his  finger  over  the 
letters,  till  he  comes  to  some  chosen  date,  and  then 
he  plays  with  his  sword  and  smiles.  But  two  nights 
since,  arms,  too,  in  great  number  were  brought  to  the 
house ;  and  I  heard  the  chief  of  the  men  who  brought 
them,  a  grim  giant,  known  well  amongst  the  people, 
say,  as  he  wiped  his  brow, — '  these  will  see  work 
soon ! ' " 

"  Arms !  Are  you  sure  of  that  ? "  said  Adrian, 
anxiously.  "  Nay,  then,  there  is  more  in  these 
schemes  than  I  imagined !  But  "  (observing  Irene's 
gaze  bent  fearfully  on  him  as  his  voice  changed,  he 
added  more  gaily) — "  but  come  what  may — believe 
me, — my  beautiful !  my  adored !  that  while  I  live,  thy 
brother  shall  not  suffer  from  the  wrath  he  may  pro- 
voke,— nor  I,  though  he  forget  our  ancient  friendship, 
cease  to  love  thee  less." 

"  Signora !  Signora !  child !  it  is  time !  we  must  go  !  " 
said  the  shrill  voice  of  Benedetta,  now  peering  through 
the  foliage.  "  The  working  men  pass  home  this  way ; 
I  see  them  approaching." 

The  lovers  parted ;  for  the  first  time  the  serpent  had 
penetrated  into  their  Eden, — they  had  conversed,  they 
had  thought,  of  other  things  than  Love. 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES        135 


CHAPTER   III 

THE    SITUATION    OF   A    POPULAR    PATRICIAN    IN    TIMES 
OF  POPULAR  DISCONTENT. — SCENE  OF  THE  LATERAN 

The  situation  of  a  Patrician  who  honestly  loves  the 
people  is,  in  those  evil  times,  when  power  oppresses 
and  freedom  struggles, — when  the  two  divisions  of 
men  are  wrestling  against  each  other, — the  most  irk- 
some and  perplexing  that  destiny  can  possibly  con- 
trive. Shall  he  take  part  with  the  nobles  ? — he  betrays 
his  conscience !  With  the  people  ? — he  deserts  his 
friends !  But  that  consequence  of  the  last  alternative 
is  not  the  sole — nor,  perhaps  to  a  strong  mind,  the 
most  severe.  All  men  are  swayed  and  chained  by 
public  opinion — it  is  the  public  judge ;  but  public 
opinion  is  not  the  same  for  all  ranks.  The  public 
opinion  that  excites  or  deters  the  plebeian,  is  the 
opinion  of  the  plebeians, — of  those  whom  he  sees,  and 
meets,  and  knows ;  of  those  with  whom  he  is  brought 
in  contact, — those  with  whom  he  has  mixed  from 
childhood, — those  whose  praises  are  daily  heard, — 
whose  censure  frowns  upon  him  with  every  hour.* 
So,  also,  the  public  opinion  of  the  great  is  the  opinion 

*It  is  the  same  in  still  smaller  divisions.  The  public  opinion 
for  lawyers  is  that  of  lawyers;  of  soldiers,  that  of  the  army; 
of  scholars,  it  is  that  of  men  of  literature  and  science.  And 
to  the  susceptible  amongst  the  latter,  the  hostile  criticism  of 
learning  has  been  more  stinging  than  the  severest  moral  cen- 
sures of  the  vulgar.  Many  a  man  has  done  a  great  act,  or 
composed  a  great  work,  solely  to  please  the  two  or  three  per- 
sons constantly  present  to  him.  Their  voice  was  his  public 
opinion.  The  public  opinion  that  operated  on  Bishop,  the 
murderer,  was  the  opinion  of  the  Burkers,  his  comrades. 
Did  that  condemn  him?  No!  He  knew  no  other  public 
opinion  till  he  came  to  be  hanged,  and  caught  the  loathing 
eyes,  and  heard  the  hissing  execrations  of  the  crowd  below 
his  gibbet. 


136  RIENZI 

of  their  equals, — of  those  whom  birth  and  accident  cast 
for  ever  in  their  way.  This  distinction  is  full  of 
important  practical  deductions ;  it  is  one  which,  more 
than  most  maxims,  should  never  be  forgotten  by  a 
politician  who  desires  to  be  profound.  It  is,  then,  an 
ordeal  terrible  to  pass — which  few  plebeians  ever  pass, 
which  it  is  therefore  unjust  to  expect  patricians  to 
cross  unfalteringly — the  ordeal  of  opposing  the  pub- 
lic opinion  which  exists  for  them.  They  cannot  help 
doubting  their  own  judgment, — they  cannot  help 
thinking  the  voice  of  wisdom  or  of  virtue  speaks  in 
those  sounds  which  have  been  deemed  oracles  from 
their  cradle.  In  the  tribunal  of  Sectarian  Prejudice 
they  imagine  they  recognise  the  court  of  the  Universal 
Conscience.  Another  powerful  antidote  to  the  ac- 
tivity of  a  patrician  so  placed,  is  in  the  certainty  that 
to  the  last  the  motives  of  such  activity  will  be  alike 
misconstrued  by  the  aristocracy  he  deserts  and  the 
people  he  joins.  It  seems  so  unnatural  in  a  man  to  fly 
in  the  face  of  his  own  order,  that  the  world  is  willing 
to  suppose  any  clue  to  the  mystery  save  that  of  honest 
conviction  or  lofty  patriotism.  "  Ambition !  "  says 
one.  "  Disappointment !  "  cries  another.  "  Some  pri- 
vate grudge  !  "  hints  a  third.  "  Mob-courting  van- 
ity ! "  sneers  a  fourth.  The  people  admire  at  first,  but 
suspect  afterwards.  The  moment  he  thwarts  a  popular 
wish,  there  is  no  redemption  for  him:  he  is  accused 
of  having  acted  the  hypocrite, — of  having  worn  the 
sheep's  fleece :  and  now,  say  they, — "  See !  the  wolf's 
teeth  peep  out !  "  Is  he  familiar  with  the  people  ? — it 
is  cajolery !  Is  he  distant  ? — it  is  pride !  What  then, 
sustains  a  man  in  such  a  situation,  following  his  own 
conscience,  with  his  eyes  opened  to  all  the  perils  of 
the  path?  Away  with  the  cant  of  public  opinion, — 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES  .      137 

away  with  the  poor  delusion  of  posthumous  justice ; 
he  will  offend  the  first,  he  will  never  obtain  the  last. 
What  sustains  him?  His  OWN  SOUL!  A  man  thor- 
oughly great  has  a  certain  contempt  for  his  kind  while 
he  aids  them :  their  weal  or  woe  are  all :  their  applause 
— their  blame — are  nothing  to  him.  He  walks  forth 
from  the  circle  of  birth  and  habit ;  he  is  deaf  to  the 
little  motives  of  little  men.  High,  through  the  widest 
space  his  orbit  may  describe,  he  holds  on  his  course  to 
guide  or  to  enlighten ;  but  the  noises  below  reach  him 
not !  Until  the  wheel  is  broken, — until  the  dark  void 
swallow  up  the  star — it  makes  melody,  night  and  day, 
to  its  own  ear;  thirsting  for  no  sound  from  the  earth 
it  illumines,  anxious  for  no  companionship  in  the  path 
through  which  it  rolls,  conscious  of  its  own  glory,  and 
contented,  therefore,  to  be  alone! 

But  minds  of  this  order  are  rare.  All  ages  cannot 
produce  them.  They  are  exceptions  to  the  ordinary 
and  human  virtue,  which  is  influenced  and  regulated 
by  external  circumstance.  At  a  time  when  even  to 
be  merely  susceptible  to  the  voice  of  fame  was  a  great 
pre-eminence  in  moral  energies  over  the  rest  of  man- 
kind, it  would  be  impossible  that  any  one  should  ever 
have  formed  the  conception  of  that  -more  refined  and 
metaphysical  sentiment,  that  purer  excitement  to  high 
deeds — that  glory  in  one's  own  heart,  which  is  so 
immeasurably  above  the  desire  of  a  renown  that 
lackeys  the  heels  of  others.  In  fact,  before  we  can 
dispense  with  the  world,  we  must,  by  a  long  and  severe 
novitiate — by  the  probation  of  much  thought,  and 
much  sorrow — by  deep  and  sad  conviction  of  the 
vanity  of  all  that  the  world  can  give  us,  have  raised 
ourselves — not  in  the  fervour  of  an  hour,  but  habitu- 
ally— above  the  world  :  an  abstraction — an  idealism — 


138  RIENZI 

which,  in  our  wiser  age,  how  few  even  of  the  wisest 
can  attain!  Yet,  till  we  are  thus  fortunate,  we  know 
not  the  true  divinity  of  contemplation,  nor  the  all- 
sufficing  mightiness  of  conscience :  nor  can  we  retreat 
with  solemn  footsteps  into  that  Holy  of  Holies  in  our 
own  souls,  wherein  we  know,  and  feel,  how  much  our 
nature  is  capable  of  the  self-existence  of  a  God ! 

But  to  return  to  the  things  and  thoughts  of  earth. 
Those  considerations,  and  those  links  of  circumstance, 
which  in  a  similar  situation  have  changed  so  many 
honest  and  courageous  minds,  changed  also  the  mind 
of  Adrian.  He  felt  in  a  false  position.  His  reason 
and  conscience  shared  in  the  schemes  of  Rienzi,  and 
his  natural  hardihood  and  love  of  enterprise  would 
have  led  him  actively  to  share  the  danger  of  their 
execution.  But  this,  all  his  associations,  his  friend- 
ships, his  private  and  household  ties,  loudly  forbade. 
Against  his  order,  against  his  house,  against  the  com- 
panions of  his  youth,  how  could  he  plot  secretly,  or  act 
sternly?  By  the  goal  to  which  he  was  impelled  by 
patriotism,  stood  hypocrisy  and  ingratitude.  Who 
would  believe  him  the  honest  champion  of  his  country 
who  was  a  traitor  to  his  friends  ?  Thus,  indeed, 

"  The  native  hue  of  resolution 
Was  sicklied  o'er  with  the  pale  cast  of  thought!  " 

And  he  who  should  have  been  by  nature  a  leader  of 
the  time  become  only  its  spectator.  Yet  Adrian 
endeavoured  to  console  himself  for  his  present  passive- 
ness  in  a  conviction  of  the  policy  of  his  conduct.  He 
who  takes  no  share  in  the  commencement  of  civil  rev- 
olutions, can  often  become,  with  the  most  effect,  a 
mediator  between  the  passions  and  the  parties  subse- 
quently formed.  Perhaps,  under  Adrian's  circum- 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES        139 

stances,  delay  was  really  the  part  of  a  prudent  states- 
man ;  the  very  position  which  cripples  at  the  first,  often 
gives  authority  before  the  end.  Clear  from  the  ex- 
cesses, and  saved  from  the  jealousies,  of  rival  factions, 
all  men  are  willing  to  look  with  complaisance  and 
respect  to  a  new  actor  in  a  turbulent  drama ;  his  mod- 
eration may  make  him  trusted  by  the  people ;  his  rank 
enable  him  to  be  a  fitting  mediator  with  the  nobles ; 
and  thus  the  qualities  that  would  have  rendered  him 
a  martyr  at  one  period  of  the  Revolution,  raise  him 
perhaps  into  a  saviour  at  another. 

Silent,  therefore,  and  passive,  Adrian  waited  the 
progress  of  events.  If  the  projects  of  Rienzi  failed, 
he  might,  by  that  inactivity,  the  better  preserve  the 
people  from  new  chains,  and  their  champion  from 
death.  If  those  projects  succeeded,  he  might  equally 
save  his  house  from  the  popular  wrath — and,  advo- 
cating liberty,  check  disorder.  Such,  at  least,  were 
his  hopes;  and  thus  did  the  Italian  sagacity  and 
caution  of  his  character  control  and  pacify  the  enthu- 
siasm of  youth  and  courage. 

The  sun  shone,  calm  and  cloudless,  upon  the  vast 
concourse  gathered  before  the  broad  space  that  sur- 
rounds the  Church  of  St.  John  of  Lateran.  Partly  by 
curiosity — partly  by  the  desire  of  the  Bishop  of  Orvi- 
etto — partly  because  it  was  an  occasion  in  which  they 
could  display  the  pomp  of  their  retinues — many  of  the 
principal  Barons  of  Rome  had  gathered  to  this  spot. 

On  one  of  the  steps  ascending  to  the  church,  with 
his  mantle  folded  round  him,  stood  Walter  de  Mon- 
treal, gazing  on  the  various  parties  that,  one  after 
another,  swept  through  the  lane  which  the  soldiers  of 
the  Church  preserved  unimpeded,  in  the  middle  of  the 
crowd,  for  the  access  of  the  principal  nobles.  He 


140  RIENZI 

watched  with  interest,  though  with  his  usual  careless- 
ness of  air  and  roving  glance,  the  different  marks  and 
looks  of  welcome  given  by  the  populace  to  the  differ- 
ent personages  of  note.  Banners  and  pennons  pre- 
ceded each  Signer,  and,  as  they  waved  aloft,  the  witti- 
cisms or  nicknames — the  brief  words  of  praise  or  cen- 
sure, that  imply  so  much — which  passed  to  and  fro 
among  that  lively  crowd,  were  treasured  carefully  in 
his  recollection. 

"  Make  way,  there ! — way  for  my  Lord  Martino 
Orsini — Baron  di  Porto !  " 

"  Peace,  minion ! — draw  back !  way  for  the  Signer 
Adriar  Colonna,  Baron  di  Castello,  and  Knight  of  the 
Empire." 

And  at  those  two  rival  shouts,  you  saw  waving  on 
high  the  golden  bear  of  the  Orsini,  with  the  motto — 
"  Beware  my  embrace !  "  and  the  solitary  column  on 
an  azure  ground,  of  the  Colonna,  with  Adrian's  es- 
pecial device — "  Sad,  but  strong."  The  train  of  Mar- 
tino Orsini  was  much  more  numerous  than  that  of 
Adrian,  which  last  consisted  but  of  ten  servitors.  But 
Adrian's  men  attracted  far  greater  admiration  amongst 
the  crowd,  and  pleased  more  the  experienced  eye  of 
the  warlike  Knight  of  St.  John.  Their  arms  were 
polished  like  mirrors,  their  height  was  to  an  inch  the 
same ;  their  march  was  regular  and  sedate ;  their  mien 
erect ;  they  looked  neither  to  the  right  nor  left ;  they 
betrayed  that  ineffable  discipline — that  harmony  of 
order — which  Adrian  had  learned  to  impart  to  his  men 
during  his  own  apprenticeship  of  arms.  But  the  dis- 
orderly train  of  the  Lord  of  Porto  was  composed  of 
men  of  all  heights.  Their  arms  were  ill-polished  and 
ill-fashioned,  and  they  pressed  confusedly  on  each 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES        141 

other ;  they  laughed  and  spoke  aloud ;  and  in  their 
mien  and  bearing  expressed  all  the  insolence  of  men 
who  despised  alike  the  master  they  served  and  the 
people  they  awed.  The  two  bands  coming  unex- 
pectedly on  each  other  through  this  narrow  defile,  the 
jealousy  of  the  two  houses  presently  declared  itself. 
Each  pressed  forward  for  the  precedence;  and,  as  the 
quiet  regularity  of  Adrian's  train,  and  even  its  com- 
pact paucity  of  numbers,  enabled  it  to  pass  before  the 
servitors  of  his  rival,  the  populace  set  up  a  loud 
shout, — "  A  Colonna  for  ever !  "— "  Let  the  Bear 
dance  after  the  Column !  " 

"  On,  ye  knaves !  "  said  Orsini  aloud  to  his  men. 
"  How  have  ye  suffered  this  affront  ?  "  And  passing 
himself  to  the  head  of  his  men,  he  would  have  ad- 
vanced through  the  midst  of  his  rival's  train,  had  not 
a  tall  guard,  in  the  Pope's  livery,  placed  his  baton  in 
the  way. 

"  Pardon,  my  Lord !  we  have  the  Vicar's  express 
commands  to  suffer  no  struggling  of  the  different 
trains  one  with  another." 

"  Knave !  dost  thou  bandy  words  with  me  ?  "  said 
the  fierce  Orsini;  and  with  his  sword  he  clove  the 
baton  in  two. 

"  In  the  Vicar's  name,  I  command  you  to  fall 
back !  "  said  the  sturdy  guard,  now  placing  his  huge 
bulk  in  the  very  front  of  the  noble's  path. 

"  It  is  Cecco  de  Vecchio !  "  cried  those  of  the  popu- 
lace, who  were  near  enough  to  perceive  the  inter- 
ruption and  its  cause. 

"  Ay,"  said  one,  "  the  good  Vicar  has  put  many 
of  the  stoutest  fellows  in  the  Pope's  livery,  in  order 
the  better  to  keep  peace.  He  could  have  chosen  none 
better  than  Cecco." 


142  RIENZI 

"  But  he  must  not  fall !  "  cried  another,  as  Orsini, 
glaring  on  the  smith,  drew  back  his  sword  as  if  to 
plunge  it  through  his  bosom. 

"  Shame — shame !  shall  the  Pope  be  thus  insulted 
in  his  own  city  ?  "  cried  several  voices.  "  Down  with 
the  sacrilegious — down !  "  And,  as  if  by  a  precon- 
certed plan,  a  whole  body  of  the  mob  broke  at  once 
through  the  lane,  and  swept  like  a  torrent  over 
Orsini  and  his  jostled  and  ill-assorted  train.  Orsini 
himself  was  thrown  on  the  ground  with  violence, 
and  trampled  upon  by  a  hundred  footsteps;  his  men, 
huddled  and  struggling  as  much  against  themselves 
as  against  the  mob,  were  scattered  and  overset ;  and 
when,  by  a  great  effort  of  the  guards,  headed  by  the 
smith  himself,  order  was  again  restored,  and  the  line 
reformed,  Orsini,  well-nigh  choked  with  his  rage  and 
humiliation,  and  greatly  bruised  by  the  rude  assaults 
he  had  received,  could  scarcely  stir  from  the  ground. 
The  officers  of  the  Pope  raised  him,  and,  when  he 
was  on  his  legs,  he  looked  wildly  around  for  his  sword, 
which,  falling  from  his  hand,  had  been  kicked  amongst 
the  crowd,  and  seeing  it  not,  he  said,  between  his 
ground  teeth,  to  Cecco  del  Vecchio — 

"  Fellow,  thy  neck  shall  answer  this  outrage,  or  may 
God  desert  me !  "  and  passed  along  through  the  space ; 
while  a  half-suppressed  and  exultant  hoot  from  the 
bystanders  followed  his  path. 

"  Way  there»!  "  cried  the  smith,  "  for  the  Lord  Mar- 
tino  di  Porto,  and  may  all  the  people  know  that  he 
has  threatened  to  take  my  life  for  the  discharge  of 
my  duty  in  obedience  to  the  Pope's  Vicar !  " 

"  He  dare  not !  "  shouted  out  a  thousand  voices ; 
"  the  people  can  protect  their  own !  " 

This  scene  had  not  been  lost  on  the  ProvenQal,  who 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES        143 

well  knew  how  to  construe  the  wind  by  the  direction 
of  straws,  and  saw  at  once,  by  the  boldness  of  the  pop- 
ulace, that  they  themselves  were  conscious  of  a  coming 
tempest.  "  Par  Dieu,"  said  he,  as  he  saluted  Adrian, 
who,  gravely,  and  without  looking  behind,  had  now 
won  the  steps  of  the  church,  "  yon  tall  fellow  has  a 
brave  heart,  and  many  friends,  too.  What  think  you," 
he  added,  in  a  low  whisper,  "  is  not  this  scene  a  proof 
that  the  nobles  are  less  safe  than  they  wot  of?  " 

"  The  beast  begins  to  kick  against  the  spur,  Sir 
Knight,"  answered  Adrian,  "  a  wise  horseman  should, 
in  such  a  case,  take  care  how  he  pull  the  rein  too  tight, 
lest  the  beast  should  rear,  and  he  be  overthrown — yet 
that  is  the  policy  thou  wouldst  recommend." 

"  You  mistake,"  returned  Montreal,  "  my  wish  was 
to  give  Rome  one  sovereign  instead  of  many  tyrants, — 
but  hark !  what  means  that  bell  ?  " 

"  The  ceremony  is  about  to  begin,"  answered 
Adrian.  "  Shall  we  enter  the  church  together  ?  " 

Seldom  had  a  temple  consecrated  to  God  witnessed 
so  singular  a  spectacle  as  that  which  now  animated 
the  solemn  space  of  the  Lateran. 

In  the  centre  of  the  church,  seats  were  raised  in  an 
amphitheatre,  at  the  far  end  of  which  was  a  scaffold- 
ing, a  little  higher  than  the  rest ;  below  this  spot,  but 
high  enough  to  be  in  sight  of  all  the  concourse,  was 
placed  a  vast  table  of  iron,  on  which  was  graven  an 
ancient  inscription,  and  bearing  in  its  centre  a  clear 
and  prominent  device,  presently  to  be  explained. 

The  seats  were  covered  with  cloth  and  rich  tapestry. 
In  the  rear  of  the  church  was  drawn  a  purple  curtain. 
Around  the  amphitheatre  were  the  officers  of  the 
Church,  in  the  party-coloured  liveries  of  the  Pope. 
To  the  right  of  the  scaffold  sate  Raimond,  Bishop  of 


144  RIENZI 

Orvietto,  in  his  robes  of  state.  On  the  benches  round 
him  you  saw  all  the  marked  personages  of  Rome — 
the  judges,  the  men  of  letters,  the  nobles,  from  the 
lofty  rank  of  the  Savelli  to  the  inferior  grade  of  a 
Raselli.  The  space  beyond  the  amphitheatre  was 
filled  with  the  people,  who  now  poured  fast  in,  stream 
after  stream :  all  the  while  rang,  clear  and  loud,  the 
great  bell  of  the  church. 

At  length,  as  Adrian  and  Montreal  seated  them- 
selves at  a  little  distance  from  Raimond,  the  bell  sud- 
denly ceased — the  murmurs  of  the  people  were  stilled 
— the  purple  curtain  was  withdrawn,  and  Rienzi  came 
forth  with  slow  and  majestic  steps.  He  came — but 
not  in  his  usual  sombre  and  plain  attire.  Over  his 
broad  breast  he  wore  a  vest  of  dazzling  whiteness — a 
long  robe,  in  the  ample  fashion  of  the  toga,  descended 
to  his  feet  and  swept  the  floor.  On  his  head  he  wore 
a  fold  of  white  cloth,  in  the  centre  of  which  shone  a 
golden  crown.  But  the  crown  was  divided,  or  cloven, 
as  it  were,  by  the  mystic  ornament  of  a  silver  sword, 
which,  attracting  the  universal  attention,  testified  at 
once  that  this  strange  garb  was  worn,  not  from  the 
vanity  of  display,  but  for  the  sake  of  presenting  to  the 
concourse — in  the  person  of  the  citizen — a  type  and 
emblem  of  that  state  of  the  city  on  which  he  was  about 
to  descant. 

"  Faith,"  whispered  one  of  the  old  nobles  to  his 
neighbour,  "  the  plebeian  assumes  it  bravely." 

"  It  will  be  rare  sport,"  said  a  second.  "  I  trust  the 
good  man  will  put  some  jests  in  his  discourse." 

"  What  showman's  tricks  are  these  ?  "  said  a  third. 

"He  is  certainly  crazed!"  said  a  fourth. 

"  How  handsome  he  is !  "  said  the  women,  mixed 
with  the  populace. 


145 

"  This  is  a  man  who  has  learned  the  people  by 
heart,"  observed  Montreal  to  Adrian.  "  He  knows  he 
must  speak  to  the  eye,  in  order  to  win  the  mind :  a 
knave, — a  wise  knave !  " 

And  now  Rienzi  had  ascended  the  scaffold ;  and  as 
he  looked  long  and  steadfastly  around  the  meeting, 
the  high  and  thoughtful  repose  of  his  majestic  coun- 
tenance, its  deep  and  solemn  gravity,  hushed  all  the 
murmurs,  and  made  its  effect  equally  felt  by  the  sneer- 
ing nobles  as  the  impatient  populace. 

"  Signors  of  Rome,"  said  he,  at  length,  "  and  ye, 
friends,  and  citizens,  you  have  heard  why  we  are  met 
together  this  day;  and  you,  my  Lord  Bishop  of  Or- 
vietto, — and  ye,  fellow  labourers  with  me  in  the  field  of 
letters, — ye,  too,  are  aware  that  it  is  upon  some  mat- 
ter relative  to  that  ancient  Rome,  the  rise  and  the  de- 
cline of  whose  past  power  and  glories  we  have  spent 
our  youth  in  endeavouring  to  comprehend.  But  this, 
believe  me,  is  no  vain  enigma  of  erudition,  useful  but 
to  the  studious, — referring  but  to  the  dead.  Let  the 
Past  perish ! — let  darkness  shroud  it ! — let  it  sleep  for 
ever  over  the  crumbling  temples  and  desolate  tombs  of 
its  forgotten  sons, — if  it  cannot  afford  us,  from  its  dis- 
buried  secrets,  a  guide  for  the  Present  and  the  Future. 
What,  my  Lords,  ye  have  thought  that  it  was  for  the 
sake  of  antiquity  alone  that  we  have  wasted  our  nights 
and  days  in  studying  what  antiquity  can  teach  us ! 
You  are  mistaken ;  it  is  nothing  to  know  what  we  have 
been,  unless  it  is  with  the  desire  of  knowing  that  which 
we  ought  to  be.  Our  ancestors  are  mere  dust  and 
ashes,  save  when  they  speak  to  our  posterity ;  and  then 
their  voices  resound,  not  from  the  earth  below,  but 
the  heaven  above.  There  is  an  eloquence  in  Mem- 
ory, because  it  is  the  nurse  of  Hope.  There  is  a 

10 


146  RIENZI 

sanctity  in  the  Past,  but  only  because  of  the  chron- 
icles it  retains, — chronicles  of  the  progress  of  man- 
kind,— stepping-stones  in  civilisation,  in  liberty,  and 
in  knowledge.  Our  fathers  forbid  us  to  recede, 
— they  teach  us  what  is  our  rightful  heritage, — 
they  bid  us  'reclaim,  they  bid  us  augment,  that 
heritage, — preserve  their  virtues,  and  avoid  their  er- 
rors. These  are  the  true  uses  of  the  Past.  Like  the 
sacred  edifice  in  which  we  are, — it  is  a  tomb  upon 
which  to  rear  a  temple.  I  see  that  you  marvel  at  this 
long  beginning;  ye  look  to  each  other — ye  ask  to 
what  it  tends.  Behold  this  broad  plate  of  iron ;  upon 
it  is  graven  an  inscription  but  lately  disinterred  from 
the  heaps  of  stone  and  ruin,  which — O  shame  to 
Rome! — were  once  the  palaces  of  empire,  and  the 
arches  of  triumphant  power.  The  device  in  the  centre 
of  the  table,  which  you  behold,  conveys  the  act  of  the 
Roman  Senators, — who  are  conferring  upon  Vespa- 
sian the  imperial  authority.  It  is  this  inscription 
which  I  have  invited  you  to  hear  read!  It  specifies 
the  very  terms  and  limits  of  the  authority  thus  con- 
ferred. To  the  Emperor  was  confided  the  power  of 
making  laws  and  alliances  with  whatsoever  nation, — 
of  increasing,  or  of  diminishing  the  limits  of  towns 
and  districts, — of — mark  this,  my  Lords! — exalting 
men  to  the  rank  of  dukes  and  kings, — ay,  and  of  de- 
posing and  degrading  them : — of  making  cities,  and 
of  unmaking :  in  short,  of  all  the  attributes  of  imperial 
power.  Yes,  to  that  Emperor  was  confided  this  vast 
authority;  but,  by  whom?  Heed — listen,  I  pray  you 
— let  not  a  word  be  lost; — by  whom,  I  say?  By  the 
Roman  Senate !  What  was  the  Roman  Senate  ?  The 
Representative  of  the  Roman  People !  " 

"  I  knew  he  would  come  to  that ! "  said  the  smith, 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES        147 

who  stood  at  the  door  with  his  fellows,  but  to  whose 
ear,  clear  and  distinct,  rolled  the  silver  voice  of  Rienzi. 

"  Brave  fellow !  and  this,  too,  in  the  hearing  of  the 
Lords  1 " 

"  Ay,  you  see  what  the  people  were,  and  we  should 
never  have  known  this  but  for  him." 

"  Peace,  fellows !  "  said  the  officer  to  those  of  the 
crowd,  from  whom  came  these  whispered  sentences. 

Rienzi  continued. — "  Yes,  it  is  the  people  who  in- 
trusted this  power — to  the  people,  therefore,  it  be- 
longs !  Did  the  haughty  Emperor  arrogate  the 
crown?  Could  he  assume  the  authority  of  himself? 
Was  it  born  with  him?  Did  he  derive  it,  my  Lord 
Barons,  from  the  possession  of  towered  castles — of 
lofty  lineage  ?  No !  all-powerful  as  he  was,  he  had  no 
right  to  one  atom  of  that  power,  save  from  the  voice 
and  trust  of  the  Roman  people.  Such,  O  my  country- 
men! such  was  even  at  that  day,  when  Liberty  was 
but  the  shadow  of  her  former  self, — such  was  the 
acknowledged  prerogative  of  your  fathers !  All  power 
was  the  gift  of  the  people.  What  have  ye  to  give 
now?  Who,  who,  I  say, — what  single  person,  what 
petty  chief,  asks  you  for  the  authority  he  assumes? 
His  senate  is  his  sword ;  his  chart  of  licence  is  writ- 
ten, not  with  ink,  but  blood.  The  people ! — there  is 
no  people !  Oh !  would  to  God  that  we  might  disen- 
tomb the  spirit  of  the  Past  as  easily  as  her  records ! " 

"  If  I  were  your  kinsman,"  whispered  Montreal  to 
Adrian,  "  I  would  give  this  man  short  breathing-time 
between  his  peroration  and  confession." 

"What  is  your  Emperor?"  continued  Rienzi;  "a 
stranger !  What  the  great  head  of  your  Church  ? — an 
exile !  Ye  are  without  your  lawful  chiefs ;  and  why  ? 
Because  ye  are  not  without  your  law-defying  tyrants ! 


148  RIENZI 

The  licence  of  your  nobles,  their  discords,  their  dissen- 
sions, have  driven  our  Holy  Father  from  the  heritage 
of  St.  Peter ; — they  have  bathed  your  streets  in  your 
own  blood;  they  have  wasted  the  wealth  of  your 
labours  on  private  quarrels  and  the  maintenance  of 
hireling  ruffians !  Your  forces  are  exhausted  against 
yourselves.  You  have  made  a  mockery  of  your  coun- 
try, once  the  mistress  of  the  world.  You  have  steeped 
her  lips  in  gall — ye  have  set  a  crown  of  thorns  upon 
her  head !  What,  my  Lords ! "  cried  he,  turning 
sharply  round  towards  the  Savelli  and  Orsini,  who, 
endeavouring  to  shake  off  the  thrill  which  the  fiery 
eloquence  of  Rienzi  had  stricken  to  their  hearts,  now, 
by  contemptuous  gestures  and  scornful  smiles,  testi- 
fied the  displeasure  they  did  not  dare  loudly  to  utter  in 
.  the  presence  of  the  Vicar  and  the  people. — "  What ! 
even  while  I  speak — not  the  sanctity  of  this  place  re~ 
strains  you !  I  am  an  humble  man — a  citizen  of 
Rome ; — but  I  have  this  distinction :  I  have  raised 
against  myself  many  foes  and  scoffers  for  that  which 
I  have  done  for  Rome.  I  am  hated,  because  I  love 
my  country ;  I  am  despised,  because  I  would  exalt  her. 
I  retaliate — I  shall  be  avenged.  Three  traitors  in 
your  own  palaces  shall  betray  you :  their  names  are — 
Luxury,  Envy,  and  Dissension !  " 

"  There  he  had  them  on  the  hip !  " 

"  Ha,  ha !  by  the  Holy  Cross,  that  was  good !  " 

"  I  would  go  to  the  hangman  for  such  another  keen 
stroke  as  that !  " 

"  It  is  a  shame  if  we  are  cowards,  when  one  man  is 
thus  brave,"  said  the  smith. 

"  This  is  the  man  we  have  always  wanted !  " 

"  Silence  !  "  proclaimed  the  officer. 

"  O    Romans ! "    resumed    Rienzi,    passionately — 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES        149 

"  awake  !  I  conjure  you !  Let  this  memorial  of  your 
former  power — your  ancient  liberties — sink  deep  into 
your  souls.  In  a  propitious  hour,  if  ye  seize  it, — in  an 
evil  one,  if  ye  suffer  the  golden  opportunity  to  escape, 
— has  this  record  of  the  past  been  unfolded  to  your 
eyes.  Recollect  that  the  Jubilee  approaches." 

The  Bishop  of  Orvietto  smiled,  and  bowed  approv- 
ingly; the  people,  the  citizens,  the  inferior  nobles, 
noted  well  those  signs  of  encouragement ;  and,  to  their 
minds,  the  Pope  himself,  in  the  person  of  his  Vicar, 
looked  benignly  on  the  daring  of  Rienzi. 

"  The  jubilee  approaches, — the  eyes  of  all  Christen- 
dom will  be  directed  hither.  Here,  where,  from  all 
quarters  of  the  globe,  men  come  for  peace,  shall  they 
find  discord? — seeking  absolution,  shall  they  perceive 
but  crime?  In  the  centre  of  God's  dominion,  shall 
they  weep  at  your  weakness  ? — in  the  seat  of  the  mar- 
tyred saints,  shall  they  shudder  at  your  vices  ? — in  the 
fountain  and  source  of  Christ's  law,  shall  they  find  all 
law  unknown?  You  were  the  glory  of  the  world — 
will  you  be  its  by-word  ?  You  were  its  example — will 
you  be  its  warning?  Rise,  while  it  is  yet  time ! — clear 
your  roads  from  the  bandits  that  infest  them ! — your 
walls  from  the  hirelings  that  they  harbour!  Banish 
these  civil  discords,  or  the  men — how  proud,  how 
great,  soever — who  maintain  them !  Pluck  the  scales 
from  the  hand  of  Fraud ! — the  sword  from  the  hand 
of  Violence ! — the  balance  and  the  sword  are  the 
ancient  attributes  of  Justice ! — restore  them  to  her 
again !  This  be  your  high  task, — these  be  your  great 
ends !  Deem  any  man  who  opposes  them  a  traitor 
to  his  country.  Gain  a  victory  greater  than  those  of 
the  Caesars — a  victory  over  yourselves !  Let  the  pil- 
grims of  the  world  behold  the  resurrection  of  Rome ! 


150  RIENZI 

Make  one  epoch  of  the  Jubilee  of  Religion  and  the 
Restoration  of  Law!  Lay  the  sacrifice  of  your  van- 
quished passions — the  first-fruits  of  your  renovated 
liberties — upon  the  very  altar  that  these  walls  contain ! 
and  never!  oh,  never!  since  the  world  began,  shall 
men  have  made  a  more  grateful  offering  to  their 
God!" 

So  intense  was  the  sensation  these  words  created  in 
the  audience — so  breathless  and  overpowered  did  they 
leave  the  souls  which  they  took  by  storm — that  Rienzi 
had  descended  the  scaffold,  and  already  disappeared 
behind  the  curtain  from  which  he  had  emerged,  ere 
the  crowd  were  fully  aware  that  he  had  ceased. 

The  singularity  of  this  sudden  apparition — robed  in 
mysterious  splendour,  and  vanishing  the  moment  its 
errand  was  fulfilled — gave  additional  effect  to  the  words 
it  had  uttered.  The  whole  character  of  that  bold  ad- 
dress became  invested  with  a  something  preternatural 
and  inspired ;  to  the  minds  of  the  vulgar,  the  mortal 
was  converted  into  the  oracle ;  and,  marvelling  at  the 
unhesitating  courage  with  which  their  idol  had  re- 
buked and  conjured  the  haughty  barons, — each  of 
whom  they  regarded  in  the  light  of  sanctioned  execu- 
tioners, whose  anger  could  be  made  manifest  at  once 
by  the  gibbet  or  the  axe, — the  people  could  not  but 
superstitiously  imagine  that  nothing  less  than  author- 
ity from  above  could  have  gifted  their  leader  with  such 
hardihood,  and  preserved  him  from  the  danger  it  in- 
curred. In  fact,  it  was  in  this  very  courage  of  Rienzi 
that  his  safety  consisted ;  he  was  placed  in  those  cir- 
cumstances where  audacity  is  prudence.  Had  he  been 
less  bold,  the  nobles  would  have  been  more  severe ; 
but  so  great  a  licence  of  speech  in  an  officer  of  the 
Holy  See,  they  naturally  imagined,  was  not  unauthor- 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES        151 

ised  by  the  assent  of  the  Pope,  as  well  as  by  the  appro- 
bation of  the  people.  Those  who  did  not  (like  Ste- 
phen Colonna)  despise  words  as  wind,  shrank  back  from 
the  task  of  punishing  one  whose  voice  might  be  the 
mere  echo  of  the  wishes  of  the  pontiff.  The  dissen- 
sions of  the  nobles  among  each  other,  were  no  less 
favourable  to  Rienzi.  He  attacked  a  body,  the  mem- 
bers of  which  had  no  union. 

"  It  is  not  my  duty  to  slay  him !  "  said  one. 

"  I  am  not  the  representative  of  the  barons !  "  said 
another. 

"If  Stephen  Colonna  heeds  him t not,  it  would  be 
absurd,  as  well  as  dangerous,  in  a  meaner  man  to 
make  himself  the  champion  of  the  order !  "  said  a  third. 

The  Colonna  smiled  approval,  when  R.ienzi  de- 
nounced an  Orsini — an  Orsini  laughed  aloud,  when 
the  eloquence  burst  over  a  Colonna.  The  lesser 
nobles  were  well  pleased  to  hear  attacks  upon  both: 
while,  on  the  other  hand,  the  Bishop,  by  the  long  im- 
punity of  Rienzi,  had  taken  courage  to  sanction  the 
conduct  of  his  fellow-officer.  He  affected,  indeed,  at 
times,  to  blame  the  excess  of  his  fervour,  but  it  was 
always  accompanied  by  the  praises  of  his  honesty; 
and  the  approbation  of  the  Pope's  Vicar  confirmed 
the  impression  of  the  nobles  as  to  the  approbation  of 
the  Pope.  Thus,  from  the  very  rashness  of  his  enthu- 
siasm had  grown  his  security  and  success. 

Still,  however,  when  the  barons  had  a  little  recov- 
ered from  the  stupor  into  which  Rienzi  had  cast  them, 
they  looked  round  to  each  other ;  and  their  looks  con- 
fessed their  sense  of  the  insolence  of  the  orator,  and 
the  affront  offered  to  themselves. 

"Per  fede!"  quoth  Reginaldo  di  Orsini,  "this  is 
past  bearing, — the  plebeian  has  gone  too  far !  " 


152  RIENZI 

"  Look  at  the  populace  below !  how  they  murmur 
and  gape, — and  how  their,  eyes  sparkle — and  what 
looks  they  bend  at  us !  "  said  Luca  di  Savelli  to  his 
mortal  enemy,  Castruccio  Malatesta:  the  sense  of  a 
common  danger  united  in  one  moment,  but  only  for 
a  moment,  the  enmity  of  years. 

"  Diavolo !  "  muttered  Raselli  (Nina's  father)  to  a 
baron,  equally  poor,  "  but  the  clerk  has  truth  in  his 
lips.  Tis  a  pity  he  is  not  noble." 

"  What  a  clever  brain  marred !  "  said  a  Florentine 
merchant.  "  That  man  might  be  something,  if  he 
were  sufficiently  rich." 

Adrian  and  Montreal  were  silent:  the  first  seemed 
lost  in  thought, — the  last  was  watching  the  various 
effects  produced  upon  the  audience. 

"  Silence !  "  proclaimed  the  officers.  "  Silence,  for 
my  Lord  Vicar." 

At  this  announcement,  every  eye  turned  to  Rai- 
mond,  who,  rising  with  much  clerical  importance,  thus 
addressed  the  assembly  : — 

"  Although,  Barons  and  Citizens  of  Rome,  my  well- 
beloved  flock,  and  children, — I,  no  more  than  your- 
selves, anticipated  the  exact  nature  of  the  address  ye 
have  just  heard, — and,  albeit,  I  cannot  feel  unalloyed 
contentment  at  the  manner,  nor,  I  may  say,  at  the 
whole  matter  of  that  fervent  exhortation — yet"  (laying 
great  emphasis  on  the  last  word),  "  I  cannot  suffer  you 
to  depart  without  adding  to  the  prayers  of  our  Holy 
Father's  servant,  those,  also,  of  his  Holiness's  spir- 
itual representative.  It  is  true!  the  Jubilee  ap- 
proaches! The  Jubilee  approaches — and  yet  our 
roads,  even  to  the  gates  of  Rome,  are  infested  with 
murderous  and  godless  ruffians!  What  pilgrim  can 
venture  across  the  Apennines  to  worship  at  the  altars 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES        153 

of  St.  Peter?  The  Jubilee  approaches:  what  scandal 
shall  it  be  to  Rome  if  these  shrines  be  without  pil- 
grims— if  the  timid  recoil  from,  if  the  bold  fall  victims 
to,  the  dangers  of  the  way!  Wherefore,  I  pray  you 
all,  citizens  and  chiefs  alike, — I  pray  you  all  to  lay 
aside  those  unhappy  dissensions  which  have  so  long 
consumed  the  strength  of  our  sacred  city ;  and,  uniting 
with  each  other  in  the  ties  of  amity  and  brotherhood, 
to  form  a  blessed  league  against  the  marauders  of  the 
road.  I  see  amongst  you,  my  Lords,  many  of  the 
boasts  and  pillars  of  the  state ;  but,  alas !  I  think  with 
grief  and  dismay  on  the  causeless  and  idle  hatred  that 
has  grown  up  between  you ! — a  scandal  to  our  city, 
and  reflecting,  let  me  add,  my  Lords,  no  honour  on 
your  faith  as  Christians,  nor  on  your  dignity  as  de- 
fenders of  the  Church." 

Amongst  the  inferior  nobles — along  the  seats  of  the 
judges  and  the  men  of  letters — through  the  vast  con- 
course of  the  people — ran  a  loud  murmur  of  approba- 
tion at  these  words.  The  greater  barons  looked 
proudly,  but  not  contemptuously,  at  the  countenance 
of  the  prelate,  and  preserved  a  strict  and  unrevealing 
silence. 

"  In  this  holy  spot,"  continued  the  Bishop,  "  let  me 
beseech  you  to  bury  those  fruitless  animosities  which 
have  already  cost  enough  of  blood  and  treasure ;  and 
let  us  quit  these  walls  with  one  common  determination 
to  evince  our  courage  and  display  our  chivalry  only 
against  our  universal  foes ; — those  ruffians  who  lay 
waste  our  fields,  and  infest  our  public  ways, — the  foes 
alike  of  the  people  we  should  protect,  and  the  God 
whom  we  should  serve !  " 

The  Bishop  resumed  his  seat ;  the  nobles  looked  at 
each  other  without  reply ;  the  people  began  to  whisper 


154  RIENZI 

loudly  amongst  themselves ;  when,  after  a  short  pause, 
Adrian  di  Castello  rose. 

"  Pardon  me,  my  Lords,  and  you,  reverend  Father, 
if  I,  inexperienced  in  years  and  of  little  mark  or  dig- 
nity amongst  you,  presume  to  be  the  first  to  embrace 
the  proposal  we  have  just  heard.  Willingly  do  I  re- 
nounce all  ancient  cause  of  enmity  with  any  of  my 
compeers.  Fortunately  for  me,  my  long  absence  from 
Rome  has  swept  from  my  remembrance  the  feuds  and 
rivalries  familiar  to  my  early  youth ;  and  in  this  noble 
conclave  I  see  but  one  man  "  (glancing  at  Martino  di 
Porto,  who  sat  sullenly  looking  down)  "  against  whom 
I  have,  at  any  time,  deemed  it  a  duty  to  draw  my 
sword;  the  gage  that  I  once  cast  to  that  noble  is 
yet,  I  rejoice  to  think,  unredeemed.  I  withdraw  it. 
Henceforth  my  only  foes  shall  be  the  foes  of  Rome !  " 

"  Nobly  spoken !  "  said  the  Bishop,  aloud. 

"  And,"  continued  Adrian,  casting  down  his  glove 
amongst  the  nobles,  "  I  throw,  my  Lords,  the  gage, 
thus  resumed,  amongst  you  all,  in  challenge  to  a  wider 
rivalry,  and  a  more  noble  field.  I  invite  any  man  to 
vie  with  me  in  the  zeal  that  he  shall  show  to  restore 
tranquillity  to  our  roads,  and  order  to  our  state.  It 
is  a  contest  in  which,  if  I  be  vanquished  with  reluc- 
tance, I  will  yield  the  prize  without  envy.  In  ten  days 
from  this  time,  reverend  Father,  I  will  raise  forty  horse- 
men-at-arms,  ready  to  obey  whatever  orders  shall  be 
agreed  upon  for  the  security  of  the  Roman  state.  And 
you,  O  Romans,  dismiss,  I  pray  you,  from  your  minds, 
those  eloquent  invectives  against  your  fellow-citizens 
which  ye  have  lately  heard.  All  of  us,  of  what  rank 
soever,  may  have  shared  in  the  excesses  of  these  un- 
happy times;  let  us  endeavour,  not  to  avenge  nor  to 
imitate,  but  to  reform  and  to  unite.  And  may  the 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES        155 

people  hereafter  find,  that  the  true  boast  of  a  patrician 
is,  that  his  power  the  better  enables  him  to  serve  his 
country." 

"  Brave  words !  "  quoth  the  smith,  sneeringly. 

"  If  they  were  all  like  him !  "  said  the  smith's  neigh- 
bour. 

"  He  has  helped  the  nobles  out  of  a  dilemma,"  said 
Pandulfo. 

"  He  has  shown  gray  wit  under  young  hairs,"  said 
an  aged  Malatesta. 

"  You  have  turned  the  tide,  but  not  stemmed  it, 
noble  Adrian,"  whispered  the  ever-boding  Montreal, 
as,  amidst  the  murmurs  of  the  general  approbation,  the 
young  Colonna  resumed  his  seat. 

"  How  mean  you  ?  "  said  Adrian. 

"  That  your  soft  words,  like  all  patrician  concilia- 
tions, have  come  too  late." 

Not  another  noble  stirred,  though  they  felt,  perhaps, 
disposed  to  join  in  the  general  feeling  of  amnesty, 
and  appeared,  by  signs  and  whispers,  to  applaud  the 
speech  of  Adrian.  They  were  too  habituated  to  the 
ungracefulness  of  an  unlettered  pride,  to  bow  them- 
selves to  address  conciliating  language  either  to  the 
people  or  their  foes.  And  Raimond,  glancing  round, 
and  not  willing  that  their  unseemly  silence  should  be 
long  remarked,  rose  at  once,  to  give  it  the  best  con- 
struction in  his  power. 

"  My  son,  thou  hast  spoken  as  a  patriot  and  a 
Christian ;  by  the  approving  silence  of  your  peers  we 
all  feel  that  they  share  your  sentiments.  Break  we 
up  the  meeting — its  end  is  obtained.  The  manner  of 
our  proceeding  against  the  leagued  robbers  of  the  road 
requires  maturer  consideration  elsewhere.  This  day 
shall  be  an  epoch  in  our  history." 


i  $6  RIENZI 

"  It  shall,"  quoth  Cecco  del  Vecchio,  gruffly,  be- 
tween his  teeth. 

"  Children,  my  blessing  upon  you  all ! "  concluded 
the  Vicar,  spreading  his  arms. 

And  in  a  few  minutes  more  the  crowd  poured  from 
the  church.  The  different  servitors  and  flag-bearers 
ranged  themselves  on  the  steps  without,  each  train 
anxious  for  their  master's  precedence ;  and  the  nobles, 
gravely  collecting  in  small  knots,  in  the  which  was 
no  mixture  of  rival  blood,  followed  the  crowd  down 
the  aisles.  Soon  rose  again  the  din,  and  the  noise,  and 
the  wrangling,  and  the  oaths,  of  the  hostile  bands,  as, 
with  pain  and  labour,  the  Vicar's  officers  marshalled 
them  in  "  order  most  disorderly." 

But  so  true  were  Montreal's  words  to  Adrian,  that 
the  populace  already  half  forgot  the  young  noble's 
generous  appeal,  and  were  only  bitterly  commenting 
on  the  ungracious  silence  of  his  brother  Lords.  What, 
too,  to  them  was  this  crusade  against  the  robbers  of 
the  road  ?  They  blamed  the  good  Bishop  for  not  say- 
ing boldly  to  the  nobles — "  Ye  are  the  first  robbers 
we  must  march  against !  "  The  popular  discontents 
had  gone  far  beyond  palliatives;  they  had  arrived  at 
that  point  when  the  people  longed  less  for  reform  than 
change.  There  are  times  when  a  revolution  cannot  be 
warded  off ;  it  must  come — come  alike  by  resistance  or 
by  concession.  Woe  to  that  race  in  which  a  revolu- 
tion produces  no  fruits ! — in  which  the  thunderbolt 
smites  the  high  place,  but  does  not  purify  the  air !  To 
suffer  in  vain  is  often  the  lot  of  the  noblest  individuals ; 
but  when  a  People  suffer  in  vain,  let  them  curse  them- 
selves ! 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES        157 
CHAPTER   IV 

THE  AMBITIOUS  CITIZEN,  AND  THE  AMBITIOUS  SOLDIER 

The  Bishop  of  Orvietto  lingered  last,  to  confer  with 
Rienzi,  who  awaited  him  in  the  recesses  of  the  Lat- 
eran.  Raimond  had  the  penetration  not  to  be  se- 
duced into  believing  that  the  late  scene  could  effect 
any  reformation  amongst  the  nobles,  heal  their  divi- 
sions, or  lead  them  actively  against  the  infestors  of  the 
Campagna.  But,  as  he  detailed  to  Rienzi  all  that  had 
occurred  subsequent  to  the  departure  of  that  hero  of 
the  scene,  he  concluded  with  saying : — 

"  You  will  perceive  from  this,  one  good  result  will 
be  produced :  the  first  armed  dissension — the  first  fray 
among  the  nobles — will  seem  like  a  breach  of  promise  ; 
and,  to  the  people  and  to  the  Pope,  a  reasonable  ex- 
cuse for  despairing  of  all  amendment  amongst  the 
Barons, — an  excuse  which  will  sanction  the  efforts  of 
the  first,  and  the  approval  of  the  last." 

"  For  such  a  fray  we  shall  not  long  wait,"  answered 
Rienzi. 

"  I  believe  the  prophecy,"  answered  Raimond,  smil- 
ing ;  "  at  present  all  runs  well.  Go  you  with  us  home- 
ward ?  " 

"  Nay,  I  think  it  better  to  tarry  here  till  the  crowd 
is  entirely  dispersed;  for  if  they  were  to  see  me,  in 
their  present  excitement,  they  might  insist  on  some 
rash  and  hasty  enterprise.  Besides,  my  Lord,"  added 
Rienzi,  "  with  an  ignorant  people,  however  honest  and 
enthusiastic,  this  rule  must  be  rigidly  observed — stale 
not  your  presence  by  custom.  Never  may  men  like 
me,  who  have  no  external  rank,  appear  amongst  the 


158  RIENZI 

crowd,  save  on  those  occasions  when  the  mind  is  itself 
a  rank." 

"  That  is  true,  as  you  have  no  train,"  answered 
Raimond,  thinking  of  his  own  well-liveried  menials. 
"  Adieu,  then !  we  shall  meet  soon." 

"  Ay,  at  Philippi,  my  Lord.  Reverend  Father,  your 
blessing !  " 

It  was  some  time  subsequent  to  this  conference  that 
Rienzi  quitted  the  sacred  edifice.  As  he  stood  on  the 
steps  of  the  church — now  silent  and  deserted — the 
hour  that  precedes  the  brief  twilight  of  the  South  lent 
its  magic  to  the  view.  There  he  beheld  the  sweeping 
arches  of  the  mighty  Aqueduct  extending  far  along 
the  scene,  and  backed  by  the  distant  and  purpled  hills. 
Before — to  the  right — rose  the  gate  which  took  its 
Roman  name  from  the  Ccelian  Mount,  at  whose  de- 
clivity it  yet  stands.  Beyond — from  the  height  of  the 
steps — he  saw  the  villages  scattered  through  the  gray 
Campagna,  whitening  in  the  sloped  sun;  and  in  the 
furthest  distance  the  mountain  shadows  began  to 
darken  over  the  roofs  of  the  ancient  Tusculum,  and 
the  second  Alban  *  city,  which  yet  rises,  in  desolate 
neglect,  above  the  vanished  palaces  of  Pompey  and 
Domitian. 

The  Roman  stood  absorbed  and  motionless  for  some 
moments,  gazing  on  the  scene,  and  inhaling  the  sweet 
balm  of  the  mellow  air.  It  was  the  soft  spring-time — 
the  season  of  flowers,  and  green  leaves,  and  whispering 
winds — the  pastoral  May  of  Italia's  poets :  but  hushed 
was  the  voice  of  song  on  the  banks  of  the  Tiber — the 
reeds  gave  music  no  more.  From  the  sacred  Mount 

*  The  first  Alba — the  Alba  Longa — whose  origin  Fable 
ascribes  to  Ascanius,  was  destroyed  by  Tullus  Hostilius.  The 
second  Alba,  or  modern  Albano,  was  erected  on  the  plain  be- 
low the  ancient  town,  a  little  before  the  time  of  Nero. 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES        159 

in  which  Saturn  held  his  home,  the  Dryad  and  the 
Nymph,  and  Italy's  native  Sylvan,  were  gone  for  ever. 
Rienzi's  original  nature — its  enthusiasm — its  venera- 
tion for  the  past — its  love  of  the  beautiful  and  the 
great — that  very  attachment  to  the  graces  and  pomp 
which  give  so  florid  a  character  to  the  harsh  realities 
of  life,  and  which  power  afterwards  too  luxuriantly 
developed;  the  exuberance  of  thoughts  and  fancies, 
which  poured  itself  from  his  lips  in  so  brilliant  and 
inexhaustible  a  flood — all  bespoke  those  intellectual 
and  imaginative  biasses,  which,  in  calmer  times,  might 
have  raised  him  in  literature  to  a  more  indisputable 
eminence  than  that  to  which  action  can  ever  lead ;  and 
something  of  such  consciousness  crossed  his  spirit  at 
that  moment. 

"  Happier  had  it  been  for  me,"  thought  he,  "  had  I 
never  looked  out  from  my  own  heart  upon  the  world. 
I  had  all  within  me  that  makes  contentment  of  the 
present,  because  I  had  that  which  can  make  me  forget 
the  present.  I  had  the  power  ta  re-people — to  create : 
the  legends  and  dreams  of  old — the  divine  faculty  of 
verse,  in  which  the  beautiful  superfluities  of  the  heart 
can  pour  themselves — these  were  mine !  Petrarch 
chose  wisely  for  himself !  To  address  the  world,  but 
from  without  the  world ;  to  persuade — to  excite — to 
command, — for  these  are  the  aim  and  glory  of  am- 
bition; — but  to  shun  its  tumult,  and  its  toil!  His  the 
quiet  cell  which  he  fills  with  the  shapes  of  beauty — 
the  solitude,  from  which  he  can  banish  the  evil  times 
whereon  we  are  fallen,  but  in  which  he  can  dream 
back  the  great  hearts  and  the  glorious  epochs  of  the 
past.  For  me — to  what  cares  I  am  wedded !  to  what 
labours  I  am  bound !  what  instruments  I  must  use ! 
what  disguises  I  must  assume !  to  tricks  and  artifice 


160  RIENZI 

I  must  bow  my  pride !  base  are  my  enemies — uncertain 
my  friends!  and  verily,  in  this  struggle  with  blinded 
and  mean  men,  the  soul  itself  becomes  warped  and 
dwarfish.  Patient  and  darkling,  the  Means  creep 
through  caves  and  the  soiling  mire,  to  gain  at  last  the 
light  which  is  the  End." 

In  these  reflections  there  was  a  truth,  the  whole 
gloom  and  sadness  of  which  the  Roman  had  not  yet 
experienced.  However  august  be  the  object  we  pro- 
pose to  ourselves,  every  less  worthy  path  we  take  to 
insure  it  distorts  the  mental  sight  of  our  ambition ; 
and  the  means,  by  degrees,  abase  the  end  to  their  own 
standard.  This  is  the  true  misfortune  of  a  man  nobler 
than  his  age — that  the  instruments  he  must  use  soil 
himself :  half  he  reforms  his  times ;  but  half,  too,  the 
times  will  corrupt  the  reformer.  His  own  craft  under- 
mines his  safety  ; — the  people,  whom  he  himself  accus- 
toms to  a  false  excitement,  perpetually  crave  it ;  and 
when  their  ruler  ceases  to  seduce  their  fancy,  he  falls 
their  victim.  The  reform  he  makes  by  these  means  is 
hollow  and  momentary — it  is  swept  away  with  himself : 
it  was  but  the  trick — the  show — the  wasted  genius  of 
a  conjuror:  the  curtain  falls — the  magic  is  over — the 
cup  and  balls  are  kicked  aside.  Better  one  slow  step 
in  enlightenment, — which  being  made  by  the  reason 
of  a  whole  people,  cannot  recede, — than  these  sudden 
flashes  in  the  depth  of  the  general  night,  which  the 
darkness,  by  contrast  doubly  dark,  swallows  up  ever- 
lastingly again ! 

As,  slowly  and  musingly,  Rienzi  turned  to  quit  the 
church,  he  felt  a  light  touch  upon  his  shoulder. 

"  Fair  evening  to  you,  Sir  Scholar,"  said  a  frank 
voice. 

"  To  you,  I  return  the  courtesy,"  answered  Rienzi, 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES        161 

gazing-  upon  the  person  who  thus  suddenly  accosted 
him,  and  in  whose  white  cross  and  martial  bearing  the 
reader  recognises  the  Knight  of  St.  John. 

"  You  know  me  not,  I  think  ?  "  said  Montreal ;  "  but 
that  matters  little,  we  may  easily  commence  our  ac- 
quaintance :  for  me,  indeed,  I  am  fortunate  enough  to 
have  made  myself  already  acquainted  with  you." 

"  Possibly  we  have  met  elsewhere,  at  the  house  of 
one  of  those  nobles  to  whose  rank  you  seem  to  be- 
long?" 

"  Belong !  no,  not  exactly !  "  returned  Montreal, 
proudly.  "  High-born  and  great  as  your  magnates 
deem  the.mselves,  I  would  not,  while  the  mountains 
can  yield  one  free  spot  for  my  footstep,  change  my 
place  in  the  world's  many  grades  for  theirs.  To  the 
brave,  there  is  but  one  sort  of  plebeian,  and  that  is 
the  coward.  But  you,  sage  Rienzi,"  continued  the 
Knight,  in  a  gayer  tone,  "  I  have  seen  in  more  stirring 
scenes  than  the  hall  of  a  Roman  Baron." 

Rienzi  glanced  keenly  at  Montreal,  who  met  his  eye 
with  an  open  brow. 

"  Yes  !  "  resumed  the  Knight — "  but  let  us  walk  on ; 
suffer  me  for  a  few  moments  to  be  your  companion. 
Yes!  I  have  listened  to  you — the  other  eve,  when 
you  addressed  the  populace,  and  to-day,  when  you 
rebuked  the  nobles;  and  at  midnight,  too,  not  long 
since,  when  (your  ear,  fair  Sir ! — lower,  it  is  a  secret !) 
— at  midnight,  too,  when  you  administered  the  oath  of 
brotherhood  to  the  bold  conspirators,  on  the  ruined 
Aventine !  " 

As  he  concluded,  the  Knight  drew  himself  aside  to 
watch,  upon  Rienzi's  countenance,  the  effect  which  his 
words  might  produce. 

A  slight  tremor  passed  over  the  frame  of  the  con- 
ii 


162  RIENZI 

spirator — for  so,  unless  the  conspiracy  succeed,  would 
Rienzi  be  termed,  by  others  than  Montreal :  he  turned 
abruptly  round  to  confront  the  Knight,  and  placed  his 
hand  involuntarily  on  his  sword,  but  presently  relin- 
quished the  grasp. 

"  Ha !  "  said  the  Roman,  slowly,  "  if  this  be  true, 
fall  Rome !  There  is  treason  even  among  the  free !  " 

"  No  treason,  brave  Sir !  "  answered  Montreal ;  "  I 
possess  thy  secret — but  none  have  betrayed  it  to 
me." 

"  And  is  it  as  friend  or  foe  that  thou  hast  learned 
it?" 

"  That  as  it  may  be,"  returned  Montreal,  carelessly. 
"  Enough,  at  present,  that  I  could  send  thee  to  the 
gibbet,  if  I  said  but  a  word, — to  show  my  power  to 
be  thy  foe :  enough,  that  I  have  not  done  it,  to  prove 
my  disposition  to  be  thy  friend." 

"  Thou  mistakest,  stranger !  that  man  does  not  live 
who  could  shed  my  blood  in  the  streets  of  Rome ! 
The  gibbet!  Little  dost  thou  know  of  the  power 
which  surrounds  Rienzi." 

These  words  were  said  with  some  scorn  and  bitter- 
ness ;  but,  after  a  moment's  pause,  Rienzi  resumed, 
more  calmly : — 

"  By  the  cross  on  thy  mantle,  thou  belongest  to  one 
of  the  proudest  orders  of  knighthood :  thou  art  a  for- 
eigner, and  a  cavalier.  What  generous  sympathies 
can  convert  thee  into  a  friend  of  the  Roman  people  ?  " 

"  Cola  di  Rienzi,"  returned  Montreal,  "  the  sym- 
pathies that  unite  us  are  those  which  unite  all  men 
who,  by  their  own  efforts,  rise  above  the  herd.  True, 
I  was  born  noble — but  powerless  and  poor :  at  my  beck 
now  move,  from  city  to  city,  the  armed  instruments  of 
authority :  my  breath  is  the  law  of  thousands.  This 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES        163 

empire  I  have  not  inherited;  I  won  it  by  a  cool  brain 
and  a  fearless  arm.  Know  me  for  Walter  de  Mon- 
treal ;  is  it  not  a  name  that  speaks  a  spirit  kindred  to 
thine  own  ?  Is  not  ambition  a  common  sentiment  be- 
tween us?  I  do  not  marshal  soldiers  for  gain  only, 
though  men  have  termed  me  avaricious — nor  butcher 
peasants  for  the  love  of  blood,  though  men  have  called 
me  cruel.  Arms  and  wealth  are  the  sinews  of  power ; 
it  is  power  that  I  desire ; — thou,  bold  Rienzi,  strug- 
glest  thou  not  for  the  same?  Is  it  the  rank  breath  of 
the  garlic-chewing  mob — is  it  the.  whispered  envy  of 
schoolmen — is  it  the  hollow  mouthing  of  boys  who 
call  thee  patriot  and  freeman,  words  to  trick  the  ear — 
that  will  content  thee  ?  These  are  but  thy  instruments 
to  pozver.  Have  I  spoken  truly  ?  " 

Whatever  distaste  Rienzi  might  conceive  at  this 
speech  he  masked  effectually.  "  Certes,"  said  he,  "  it 
would  be  in  vain,  renowned  Captain,  to  deny  that  I 
seek  but  that  power  of  which  thou  speakest.  But 
what  union  can  there  be  between  the  ambition  of  a 
Roman  citizen  and  the  leader  of  paid  armies  that  take 
their  cause  only  according  to  their  hire — to-day,  fight 
for  liberty  in  Florence — to-morrow,  for  tyranny  in 
Bologna?  Pardon  my  frankness;  for  in  this  age  that 
is  deemed  no  disgrace  which  I  impute  to  thy  armies. 
Valour  and  generalship  are  held  to  consecrate  any 
cause  they  distinguish ;  and  he  who  is  the  master 
of  princes,  may  be  well  honoured  by  them  as  their 
equal." 

"  We  are  entering  into  a  less  deserted  quarter  of  the 
town,"  said  the  Knight ;  "  is  there  no  secret  place 
— no  Aventine — in  this  direction,  where  we  can  con- 
fer?" 

"  Hush !  "  replied  Rienzi,  cautiously  looking  round. 


164  RIENZI 

"  I  thank  thee,  noble  Montreal,  for  the  hint ;  nor  may 
it  be  well  for  us  to  be  seen  together.  Wilt  thou  deign 
to  follow  me  to  my  home,  by  the  Palatine  Bridge  ?  * 
there  we  can  converse  undisturbed  and  secure." 

"  Be  it  so,"  said  Montreal,  falling  back. 

With  a  quick  and  hurried  step,  Rienzi  passed 
through  the  town,  in  which,  wherever  he  was  discov- 
ered, the  scattered  citizens  saluted  him  with  marked 
respect ;  and,  turning  through  a  labyrinth  of  dark 
alleys,  as  if  to  shun  the  more  public  thoroughfares, 
arrived  at  length  at  a  broad  space  near  the  river.  The 
first  stars  of  night  shone  down  on  the  ancient  temple 
of  Fortuna  Virilis,  which  the  chances  of  Time  had 
already  converted  into  the  Church  of  St.  Mary  of 
Egypt ;  and  facing  the  twice-hallowed  edifice  stood  the 
house  of  Rienzi. 

"  It  is  a  fair  omen  to  have  my  mansion  facing  the 
ancient  Temple  of  Fortune,"  said  Rienzi,  smiling,  as 
Montreal  followed  the  Roman  into  the  chamber  I  have 
already  described. 

"  Yet  Valour  need  never  pray  to  Fortune,"  said  the 
Knight ;  "  the  first  commands  the  last." 

Long  was  the  conference  between  these  two  men, 
the  most  enterprising  of  their  age:  Meanwhile,  let 
me  make  the  reader  somewhat  better  acquainted  with 
the  character  and  designs  of  Montreal,  than  the  hurry 
of  events  has  yet  permitted  him  to  become. 

Walter  de  Montreal,  generally  known  in  the  chron- 
icles of  Italy  by  the  designation  of  Fra  Moreale,  had 

*  The  picturesque  ruins  shown  at  this  day  as  having  once 
been  the  habitation  of  the  celebrated  Cola  di  Rienzi,  were 
long  asserted  by  the  antiquarians  to  have  belonged  to  another 
Cola  or  Nicola.  I  believe,  however,  that  the  dispute  has  been 
lately  decided:  and,  indeed,  no  one  but  an  antiquary,  and  that 
a  Roman  one.  could  suppose  lhat  there  were  two  Colas  to 
whom  the  inscription  on  the  house  would  apply. 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES        165 

passed  into  Italy — a  bold  adventurer,  worthy  to  be- 
come a  successor  of  those  roving  Normans  (from  one 
of  the  most  eminent  of  whom,  by  the  mother's  side, 
he  claimed  descent)  who  had  formerly  played  so 
strange  a  part  in  the  chivalric  errantry  of  Europe, — 
realising  the  fables  of  Amadis  and  Palmerin — (each 
knight,  in  himself  a  host),  winning  territories  and  over- 
setting thrones ;  acknowledging  no  laws  save  those  of 
knighthood ;  never  confounding  themselves  with  the 
tribe  amongst  which  they  settled ;  incapable  of  becom- 
ing citizens,  and  scarcely  contented  with  aspiring  to 
be  kings.  At  that  time,  Italy  was  the  India  of  all 
those  well-born  and  penniless  adventurers  who,  like 
Montreal,  had  inflamed  their  imagination  by  the  bal- 
lads and  legends  of  the  Roberts  and  the  Godfreys  of 
old ;  who  had  trained  themselves  from  youth  to  man- 
age the  barb,  and  bear,  through  the  heats  of  summer, 
the  weight  of  arms ;  and  who,  passing  into  an  effem- 
inate and  distracted  land,  had  only  to  exhibit  bravery 
in  order  to  command  wealth.  It  was  considered  no 
disgrace  for  some  powerful  chieftain  to  collect  to- 
gether a  band  of  these  hardy  aliens, — to  subsist 
amidst  the  mountains  on  booty  and  pillage, — to  make 
war  upon  tyrant  or  republic,  as  interest  suggested, 
and  to  sell,  at  enormous  stipends,  the  immunities  of 
peace.  Sometimes  they  hired  themselves  to  one  state 
to  protect  it  against  the  other ;  and  the  next  year  be- 
held them  in  the  field  against  their  former  employers. 
These  bands  of  Northern  stipendiaries  assumed,  there- 
fore, a  civil,  as  well  as  a  military,  importance;  they 
were  as  indispensable  to  the  safety  of  one  state  as  they 
were  destructive  to  the  security  of  all.  But  five  years 
before  the  present  date,  the  Florentine  Republic  had 
hired  the  services  of  a  celebrated  leader  of  these 


166  RIENZI 

foreign  soldiers, — Gualtier,  Duke  of  Athens.  By  ac- 
clamation, the  people  themselves  had  elected  that  war- 
rior to  the  state  of  prince,  or  tyrant,  of  their  state ; 
before  the  year  was  completed,  they  revolted  against 
his  cruelties,  or  rather  against  his  exactions, — for, 
despite  all  the  boasts  of  their  historians,  they  felt  an 
attack  on  their  purses  more  deeply  than  an  assault  on 
their  liberties, — they  had  chased  him  from  their  city, 
and  once  more  proclaimed  themselves  a  Republic. 
The  bravest,  and  most  favoured  of  the  soldiers  of  the 
Duke  of  Athens  had  been  Walter  de  Montreal ;  he 
had  shared  the  rise  and  the  downfall  of  his  chief. 
Amongst  popular  commotions,  the  acute  and  ob- 
servant mind  of  the  Knight  of  St.  John  had  learned 
no  mean  civil  experience ;  he  had  learned  to  sound  a 
people — to  know  how  far  they  would  endure — to  con- 
strue the  signs  of  revolution — to  be  a  reader  of  the 
times.  After  the  downfall  of  the  Duke  of  Athens,  as 
a  Free  Companion,  in  other  words  a  Freebooter,  Mon- 
treal had  augmented  under  the  fierce  Werner  his 
riches  and  his  renown.  At  present  without  employ- 
ment worthy  his  spirit  of  enterprise  and  intrigue,  the 
disordered  and  chiefless  state  of  Rome  had  attracted 
him  thither.  In  the  league  he  had  proposed  to 
Colonna — in  the  suggestions  he  had  made  to  the  van- 
ity of  that  Signer — his  own  object  was  to  render  his 
services  indispensable — to  constitute  himself  the  head 
of  the  soldiery  whom  his  proposed  designs  would 
render  necessary  to  the  ambition  of  the  Colonna,  could 
it  be  excited — and,  in  the  vastness  of  his  hardy  genius 
for  enterprise,  he  probably  foresaw  that  the  command 
of  such  a  force  would  be,  in  reality,  the  command  of 
Rome ;  a  counter-revolution  might  easily  unseat  the 
Colonna  and  elect  himself  to  the  principality.  It  had 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES        167 

sometimes  been  the  custom  of  Roman,  as  of  other 
Italian,  States,  to  prefer  for  a  chief  magistrate,  under 
the  title  of  Podesta,  a  foreigner  to  a  native.  And  Mon- 
treal hoped  that  he  might  possibly  become  to  Rome 
what  the  Duke  of  Athens  had  been  to  Florence — an 
ambition  he  knew  well  enough  to  be  above  the  gentle- 
man of  Provence,  but  not  above  the  leader  of  an  army. 
But,  as  we  have  already  seen,  his  sagacity  perceived  at 
once  that  he  could  not  move  the  aged  head  of  the 
patricians  to  those  hardy  and  perilous  measures  which 
were  necessary  to  the  attainment  of  supreme  power. 
Contented  with  his  present  station,  and  taught  mod- 
eration by  his  age  and  his  past  reverses,  Stephen 
Colonna  was  not  the  man  to  risk  a  scaffold  from  the 
hope  to  gain  a  throne.  The  contempt  which  the  old 
patrician  professed  for  the  people,  and  their  idol,  also 
taught  the  deep-thinking  Montreal  that,  if  the  Colonna 
possessed  not  the  ambition,  neither  did  he  possess  the 
policy,  requisite  for  empire.  The  Knight  found  his 
caution  against  Rienzi  in  vain,  and  he  turned  to  Rienzi 
himself.  Little  cared  the  Knight  of  St.  John  which 
party  were  uppermost — prince  or  people — so  that  his 
own  objects  were  attained ;  in  fact,  he  had  studied  the 
humours  of  a  people,  not  in  order  to  serve,  but  to  rule 
them;  and,  believing  all  men  actuated  by  a  similar 
ambition,  he  imagined  that,  whether  a  demagogue  or 
a  patrician  reigned,  the  people  were  equally  to  be  vic- 
tims, and  that  the  qry  of  "  Order  "  on  the  one  hand, 
or  of  "  Liberty  "  on  the  other,  was  but  the  mere  pre- 
text by  which  the  energy  of  one  man  sought  to  justify 
his  ambition  over  the  herd.  Deeming  himself  one 
of  the  most  honourable  spirits  of  his  age,  he  believed 
in  no  honour  which  he  was  unable  to  feel ;  and,  sceptic 
in  virtue,  was  therefore  credulous  of  vice. 


i68  RIENZI 

But  the  boldness  of  his  own  nature  inclined  him, 
perhaps,  rather  to  the  adventurous  Rienzi  than  to  the 
self-complacent  Colonna;  and  he  considered  that  to 
the  safety  of  the  first  he  and  his  armed  minions  might 
be  even  more  necessary  than  to  that  of  the  last.  At 
present  his  main  object  was  to  learn  from  Rienzi  the 
exact  strength  which  he  possessed,  and  how  far  he  was 
prepared  for  any  actual  revolt. 

The  acute  Roman  took  care,  on  the  one  hand,  how 
he  betrayed  to  the  Knight  more  than  he  yet  knew,  or 
he  disgusted  him  by  apparent  reserve  on  the  other. 
Crafty  as  Montreal  was,  he  possessed  not  that  wonder- 
ful art  of  mastering  others  which  was  so  pre-eminently 
the  gift  of  the  eloquent  and  profound  Rienzi,  and  the 
difference  between  the  grades  of  their  intellect  was 
visible  in  their  present  conference. 

"  I  see,"  said  Rienzi,  "  that  amidst  all  the  events 
which  have  lately  smiled  upon  my  ambition,  none  is 
so  favourable  as  that  which  assures  me  of  your  coun- 
tenance and  friendship.  In  truth,  I  require  some 
armed  alliance.  Would  you  believe  it,  our  friends,  so 
bold  in  private  meetings,  yet  shrink  from  a  public  ex- 
plosion. They  fear  not  the  patricians,  but  the  soldiery 
of  the  patricians;  for  it  is  the  remarkable  feature  in 
the  Italian  courage,  that  they  have  no  terror  for  each 
other,  but  the  casque  and  sword  of  a  foreign  hireling 
make  them  quail  like  deer." 

"  They  will  welcome  gladly,  then,  the  assurance  that 
such  hirelings  shall  be  in  their  service — not  against 
them;  and  as  many  as  you  desire  for  the  revolution, 
so  many  shall  you  receive." 

"  But  the  pay  and  the  conditions,"  said  Rienzi,  with 
his  dry,  sarcastic  smile.  "  How  shall  we  arrange  the 
first,  and  what  shall  we  hold  to  be  the  second  ?  " 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES        169 

"  That  is  an  affair  easily  concluded,"  replied  Mon- 
treal. "  For  me,  to  tell  you  frankly,  the  glory  and 
excitement  of  so  great  a  revulsion  would  alone  suffice. 
I  like  to  feel  myself  necessary  to  the  completion  of 
high  events.  For  my  men  it  is  otherwise.  Your  first 
act  will  be  to  seize  the  revenues  of  the  state.  Well, 
whatever  they  amount  to,  the  product  of  the  first  year, 
great  or  small,  shall  be  divided  amongst  us.  You  the 
one  half,  I  and  my  men  the  other  half." 

"  It  is  much,"  said  Rienzi,  gravely,  and  as  if  in  cal- 
culation,— "  but  Rome  cannot  purchase  her  liberties 
too  dearly.  So  be  it  then  decided." 

"  Amen ! — and  now,  then,  what  is  your  force  ? 
for  these  eighty  or  a  hundred  signors  of  the  Aven- 
tine, — worthy  men,  doubtless, — scarce  suffice  for  a 
revolt !  " 

Gazing  cautiously  round  the  room,  the  Roman 
placed  his  hand  on  Montreal's  arm — 

"  Between  you  and  me,  it  requires  time  to  cement 
it.  We  shall  be  unable  to  stir  these  five  weeks.  I 
have  too  rashly  anticipated  the  period.  The  corn  is 
indeed  cut,  but  I  must  now,  by  private  adjuration  and 
address,  bind  up  the  scattered  sheaves." 

"  Five  weeks,"  repeated  Montreal ;  "  that  is  far 
longer  than  I  anticipated." 

"  What  I  desire,"  continued  Rienzi,  fixing  his 
searching  eyes  upon  Montreal,  "  is,  that,  in  the  mean- 
while, we  should  preserve  a  profound  calm, — we 
should  remove  every  suspicion.  I  shall  bury  myself 
in  my  studies,  and  convoke  no  more  meetings." 

"  Well " 

"  Arid  for  yourself,  noble  Knight,  might  I  venture 
to  dictate,  I  would  pray  you  to  mix  with  the  nobles — 
to  profess  for  me  and  for  the  people  the  profoundest 


1 70  RIENZI 

contempt — and  to  contribute  to  rock  them  yet  more 
in  the  cradle  of  their  false  security.  Meanwhile,  you 
could  quietly  withdraw  as  many  of  the  armed  mercena- 
ries as  you  influence  from  Rome,  and  leave  the  nobles 
without  their  only  defenders.  Collecting  these  hardy 
warriors  in  the  recesses  of  the  mountains,  a  day's 
march  from  hence,  we  may  be  able  to  summon  them 
at  need,  and  they  shall  appear  at  our  gates,  and  in 
the  midst  of  our  rising — hailed  as  deliverers  by  the 
nobles,  but  in  reality  allies  with  the  people.  In  the 
confusion  and  despair  of  our  enemies  at  discovering 
their  mistake,  they  will  fly  from  the  city." 

"  And  its  revenues  and  its  empire  will  become  the 
appanage  of  the  hardy  soldier  and  the  intriguing  dem- 
agogue !  "  cried  Montreal,  with  a  laugh. 

"  Sir  Knight,  the  division  shall  be  equal." 

"  Agreed !  " 

"  And  now,  noble  Montreal,  a  flask  of  our  best 
vintage !  "  said  Rienzi,  changing  his  tone. 

"  You  know  the  Provengals,"  answered  Montreal, 
gaily. 

The  wine  was  brought,  the  conversation  became  free 
and  familiar,  and  Montreal,  whose  craft  was  acquired, 
and  whose  frankness  was  natural,  unwittingly  com- 
mitted his  secret  projects  and  ambition  more  nakedly 
to  Rienzi  than  he  had  designed  to  do.  They  parted 
apparently  the  best  of  friends. 

"  By  the  way,"  said  Rienzi,  as  they  drained  the  last 
goblet,  "  Stephen  Colonna  betakes  him  to  Corneto, 
with  a  convoy  of  corn,  on  the  iQth.  Will  it  not  be  as 
well  if  you  join  him  ?  You  can  take  that  opportunity 
to  whisper  discontent  to  the  mercenaries  that  accom- 
pany him  on  his  mission,  and  induce  them  to  our 
plan." 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES        171 

"  I  thought  of  that  before,"  returned  Montreal ;  "  it 
shall  be  done.  For  the  present,  farewell !  " 

' '  His  barb,  and  his  sword, 

And  his  lady,  the  peerless, 
Are  all  that  are  prized 
By  Orlando  the  fearless. 

"  '  Success  to  the  Norman, 

The  darling  of  story; 
His  glory  is  pleasure — 
His  pleasure  is  glory.'  " 

Chanting  this  rude  ditty  as  he  resumed  his  mantle, 
the  Knight  waved  his  hand  to  Rienzi,  and  departed. 

Rienzi  watched  the  receding  form  of  his  guest  with 
an  expression  of  hate  and  fear  upon  his  countenance. 
"  Give  that  man  the  power,"  he  muttered,  "  and  he 
may  be  a  second  Totila.*  Methinks  I  see,  in  his 
griping  and  ferocious  nature, — through  all  the  gloss 
of  its  gaiety  and  knightly  grace, — the  very  personifica- 
tion of  our  old  Gothic  foes.  I  trust  I  have  lulled  him ! 
Verily,  two  suns  could  no  more  blaze  in  one  hem- 
isphere, than  Walter  de  Montreal  and  Cola  di  Rienzi 
live  in  the  same  city.  The  star-seers  tell  us  that  we 
feel  a  secret  and  uncontrollable  antipathy  to  those 
whose  astral  influences  destine  them  to  work  us  evil; 
such  antipathy  do  I  feel  for  yon  fair-faced  homicide. 
Cross  not  my  path,  Montreal ! — cross  not  my  path !  " 

With  this  soliloquy  Rienzi  turned  within,  and,  re- 
tiring to  his  apartment,  was  seen  no  more  that  night. 

*  Innocent  VI.,  some  years  afterwards,  proclaimed  Mon- 
treal to  be  worse  than  Totila. 


RIENZI 


CHAPTER   V 

THE    PROCESSION    OF    THE    BARONS. — THE    BEGINNING 
OF   THE    END 

It  was  the  morning  of  the  iQth  of  May,  the  air  was 
brisk  and  clear,  and  the  sun,  which  had  just  risen, 
shone  cheerily  upon  the  glittering  casques  and  spears 
of  a  gallant  procession  of  armed  horsemen,  sweeping 
through  the  long  and  principal  street  of  Rome.  The 
neighing  of  the  horses,  the  ringing  of  the  hoofs,  the 
dazzle  of  the  armour,  and  the  tossing  to  and  fro  of  the 
standards,  adorned  with  the  proud  insignia  of  the 
Colonna,  presented  one  of  the  gay  and  brilliant  spec- 
tacles peculiar  to  the  middle  ages. 

At  the  head  of  the  troop,  on  a  stout  palfrey,  rode 
Stephen  Colonna.  At  his  right  was  the  Knight  of 
Provence,  curbing,  with  an  easy  hand,  a  slight,  but 
fiery  steed  of  the  Arab  race :  behind  him  followed  two 
squires,  the  one  leading  his  war-horse,  the  other  bear- 
ing his  lance  and  helmet.  At  the  left  of  Stephen 
Colonna  rode  Adrian,  grave  and  silent,  and  replying 
only  by  monosyllables  to  the  gay  bavardage  of  the 
Knight  of  Provence.  A  considerable  number  of  the 
flower  of  the  Roman  nobles  followed  the  old  Baron ; 
and  the  train  was  closed  by  a  serried  troop  of  foreign 
horsemen,  completely  armed. 

There  was  no  crowd  in  the  street, — the  citizens 
looked  with  seeming  apathy  at  the  procession  from 
their  half-closed  shops. 

"  Have  these  Romans  no  passion  for  shows  ?  "  asked 
Montreal ;  "  if  they  could  be  more  easily  amused  they 
would  be  more  easily  governed." 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES        173 

"  Oh,  Rienzi,  and  such  buffoons,  amuse  them.  We 
do  better, — we  terrify !  "  replied  Stephen. 

"  What  sings  the  troubadour,  Lord  Adrian  ?  "  said 
Montreal. 

" '  Smiles,  false  smiles,  should  form  the  school 
For  those  who  rise,  and  those  who  rule: 
The  brave  they  trick,  the  fair  subdue, 
Kings  deceive,  and  States  undo. 

Smiles,  false  smiles! 

"  '  Frowns,  true  frowns,  ourselves  betray, 
The  brave  arouse,  the  fair  dismay, 

Sting  the  pride,  which  blood  must  heal, 
Mix  the  bowl,  and  point  the  steel. 

Frowns,  true  frowns! ' 

"  The  lay  is  of  France,  Signor ;  yet  methinks  it  brings 
its  wisdom  from  Italy ; — for  the  serpent  smile  is  your 
countrymen's  proper  distinction,  and  the  frown  ill  be- 
comes them." 

"  Sir  Knight,"  replied  Adrian,  sharply,  and  incensed 
at  the  taunt,  "  you  foreigners  have  taught  us  how  to 
frown  : — a  virtue  sometimes." 

"  But  not  wisdom,  unless  the  hand  could  maintain 
what  the  brow  menaced,"  returned  Montreal,  with 
haughtiness;  for  he  had  much  of  the  Franc  vivacity 
which  often  overcame  his  prudence ;  and  he  had  con- 
ceived a  secret  pique  against  Adrian  since  their  inter- 
view at  Stephen's  palace. 

"  Sir  Knight,"  answered  Adrian,  colouring,  "  our 
conversation  may  lead  to  warmer  words  than  I  would 
desire  to  have  with  one  who  has  rendered  me  so  gal- 
lant a  service." 

"  Nay,  then,  let  us  go  back  to  the  troubadours," 
said  Montreal,  indifferently.  "  Forgive  me  if  I  do  not 
think  highly,  in  general,  of  Italian  honour,  or  Italian 


1/4  RIENZI 

valour;  your  valour  I  acknowledge,  for  I  have  wit- 
nessed it,  and  valour  and  honour  go  together, — let 
that  suffice !  " 

As  Adrian  was  about  to  answer,  his  eye  fell  sud- 
denly on  the  burly  form  of  Cecco  del  Vecchio,  who 
was  leaning  his  bare  and  brawny  arms  over  his  anvil, 
and  gazing,  with  a  smile,  upon  the  group.  There  was 
something  in  that  smile  which  turned  the  current  of 
Adrian's  thoughts,  and  which  he  could  not  contem- 
plate without  an  unaccountable  misgiving. 

"  A  strong  villain,  that,"  said  Montreal,  also  eyeing 
the  smith.  "  I  should  like  to  enlist  him.  Fellow ! " 
cried  he,  aloud,  "  y,ou  have  an  arm  that  were  as  fit  to 
wield  the  sword  as  to  fashion  it.  Desert  your  anvil, 
and  follow  the  fortunes  of  Fra  Moreale !  " 

The  smith  nodded  his  head.  "  Signer  Cavalier," 
said  he,  gravely,  "  we  poor  men  have  no  passion  for 
war;  we  want  not  to  kill  others — we  desire  only  our- 
selves to  live, — if  you  will  let  us !  " 

"  By  the  Holy  Mother,  a  slavish  answer !  But  you 
Romans " 

"Are  slaves !  "  interrupted  the  smith,  turning  away 
to  the  interior  of  his  forge. 

"  The  dog  is  mutinous ! "  said  the  old  Colonna. 
And  as  the  band  swept  on,  the  rude  foreigners,  en- 
couraged by  their  leaders,  had  each  some  taunt  or  jest, 
uttered  in  a  barbarous  attempt  at  the  southern  patois, 
for  the  lazy  giant,  as  he  again  appeared  in  front  of  his 
forge,  leaning  on  his  anvil  as  before,  and  betraying 
no  sign  of  attention  to  his  insulters,  save  by  a  height- 
ened glow  of  his  swarthy  visage ; — and  so  the  gallant 
procession  passed  through  the  streets,  and  quitted  the 
Eternal  City. 

There  was  a  long  interval  of  deep  silence — of  gen- 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES        175 

eral  calm — throughout  the  whole  of  Rome :  the  shops 
were  still  but  half-opened;  no  man  betook  himself  to 
his  business ;  it  was  like  the  commencement  of  some 
holiday,  when  indolence  precedes  enjoyment. 

About  noon,  a  few  small  knots  of  men  might  be 
seen  scattered  about  the  streets,  whispering  to  each 
other,  but  soon  dispersing;  and  every  now  and  then, 
a  single  passenger,  generally  habited  in  the  long  robes 
used  by  the  men  of  letters,  or  in  the  more  sombre  garb 
of  monks,  passed  hurriedly  up  the  street  towards  the 
Church  of  St.  Mary  of  Egypt,  once  the  Temple  of  For- 
tune. Then,  again,  all  was  solitary  and  deserted. 
Suddenly,  there  was  heard  the  sound  of  a  single  trumpet! 
It  swelled — it  gathered  on  the  ear.  Cecco  del  Vec- 
chio  looked  up  from  his  anvil !  A  solitary  horseman 
paced  slowly  by  the  forge,  and  wound  a  long  loud 
blast  of  the  trumpet  suspended  round  his  neck,  as  he 
passed  through  the  middle  of  the  street.  Then  might 
you  see  a  crowd,  suddenly,  and  as  by  magic,  appear 
emerging  from  every  corner;  the  street  became 
thronged  with  multitudes ;  but  it  was  only  by  the  tramp 
of  their  feet,  and  an  indistinct  and  low  murmur,  that 
they  broke  the  silence.  Again  the  horseman  wound 
his  trump,  and  when  the  note  ceased,  he  cried  aloud — 
"  Friends  and  Romans !  to-morrow,  at  dawn  of  day, 
let  each  man  find  himself  unarmed  before  the  Church 
of  St.  Angelo.  Cola  di  Rienzi  convenes  the  Romans 
to  provide  for  the  good  state  of  Rome."  A  shout,  that 
seemed  to  shake  the  bases  of  the  seven  hills,  broke 
forth  at  the  end  of  this  brief  exhortation ;  the  horse- 
man rode  slowly  on,  and  the  crowd  followed. — This 
was  the  commencement  of  the  Revolution ! 


176  RIENZI 


CHAPTER  VI 

THE   CONSPIRATOR   BECOMES   THE   MAGISTRATE 

At  midnight,  when  the  rest  of  the  city  seemed 
hushed  in  rest,  lights  were  streaming  from  the  win- 
dows of  the  Church  of  St.  Angelo.  Breaking  from  its 
echoing  aisles,  the  long  and  solemn  notes  of  sacred 
music  stole  at  frequent  intervals  upon  the  air.  Rienzi 
was  praying  within  the  church ;  thirty  masses  con- 
sumed the  hours  from  night  till  morn,  and  all  the  sanc- 
tion of  religion  was  invoked  to  consecrate  the  enter- 
prise of  liberty.*  The  sun  had  long  risen,  and  the 
crowd  had  long  been  assembled  before  the  church 
door,  and  in  vast  streams  along  every  street  that  led 
to  it, — when  the  bell  of  the  church  tolled  out  long  and 
merrily;  and  as  it  ceased,  the  voices  of  the  choristers 
within  chanted  the  following  hymn,  in  which  were 
somewhat  strikingly,  though  barbarously,  blended,  the 
spirit  of  the  classic  patriotism  with  the  fervour  of  re- 
ligious zeal : — 

THE   ROMAN    HYMN    OF   LIBERTY 
Let  the  mountains  exult  around!! 
On  her  seven-hill'd  throne  renown'd, 
Once  more  old  Rome  is  crown'd! 
Jubilate! 

*  In  fact,  I  apprehend  that  if  ever  the  life  of  Cola  di  Rienzi 
shall  be  written  by  a  hand  worthy  of  the  task,  it  will  be  shown 
that  a  strong  religious  feeling  was  blended  with  the  political  en- 
thusiasm of  the  people, — the  religions  feeling  of  a  premature  and 
crude  reformation,  the  legacy  of  Arnold  of  Brescia.  It  was  not, 
however,  one  excited  against  the  priests,  but  favoured  by 
them.  The  principal  conventual  orders  declared  for  the 
Revolution. 

t "  Exultent  in  circuito  Vestro  .Montes,"  &c. — Let  the 
mountains  exult  around!  So  begins  Rienzi's  letter  to  the 
Senate  and  Roman  people:  preserved  by  Hocsemius. 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES        177 

Sing  out,  O  Vale  and  Wave! 
Look  up  from  each  laurell'd  grave, 
Bright  dust  of  the  deathless  brave! 

Jubilate! 

Pale  Vision,  what  art  thou? — Lo, 
From  Time's  dark  deeps, 
Like  a  wind,  It  sweeps, 
Like  a  Wind,  when  the  tempests  blow; 

A  shadowy  form — as  a  giant  ghost — 

It  stands  in  the  midst  of  the  armed  host! 

The  dead  man's  shroud  on  Its  awful  limbs; 

And  the  gloom  of  Its  presence  the  day-light  dims: 

And  the  trembling  world  looks  on  aghast — 

All  hail  to  the  SOUL  OF  THE  MIGHTY  PAST! 

Hail!  all  hail! 

As  we  speak — as  we  hallow — It  moves,  It  breathes; 
From  its  clouded  crest  bud  the  laurel  wreaths — 
As  a  Sun  that  leaps  up  from  the  arms  of  Night, 
The  shadow  takes  shape,  and  the  gloom  takes  light. 

Hail!  all  hail! 

THE  SOUL  OF  THE  PAST,  again 

To  its  ancient  home, 

In  the  hearts  of  Rome, 
Hath  come  to  resume  its  reign! 

O  Fame,  with  a  prophet's  voice, 

Bid  the  ends  of  the  earth  rejoice! 

Wherever  the  Proud  are  Strong, 

And  Right  is  oppress'd  by  Wrong; — 

Wherever  the  day  dim  shines 

Through  the  cell  where  the  captive  pines;— 

Go  forth,  with  a  trumpet's  sound! 

And  tell  to  the  Nations  round — 

On  the  Hills  which  the  Heroes  trod — 

In  the  shrines  of  the  Saints  of  God — 

In  the  Caesars'  hall,  and  the  Martyrs'  prison — 

That  the  slumber  is  broke,  and  the  Sleeper  arisen! 

That  the  reign  of  the  Goth  and  the  Vandal  is  o'er: 

And  earth  feels  the  tread  of  THE  ROMAN  once  more. 

12 


178  RIENZI 

As  the  hymn  ended,  the  gate  of  the  church  opened ; 
the  crowd  gave  way  on  either  side,  and,  preceded  by 
three  of  the  young  nobles  of  the  inferior  order,  bear- 
ing standards  of  allegorical  design,  depicting  the 
triumph  of  Liberty,  Justice,  and  Concord,  forth  issued 
Rienzi,  clad  in  complete  armour,  the  helmet  alone 
excepted.  His  face  was  pale  with  watching  and  in- 
tense excitement — but  stern,  grave,  and  solemnly 
composed ;  and  its  expression  so  repelled  any  vocif- 
erous and  vulgar  burst  of  feeling,  that  those  who  be- 
held it  hushed  the  shout  on  their  lips,  and  stilled,  by  a 
simultaneous  cry  of  reproof,  the  gratulations  of  the 
crowd  behind.  Side  by  side  with  Rienzi  moved  Rai- 
mond,  Bishop  of  Orvietto :  and  behind,  marching  two 
by  two,  followed  a  hundred  men-at-arms.  In  com- 
plete silence  the  procession  began  its  way,  until,  as  it 
approached  the  Capitol,  the  awe  of  the  crowd  gradu- 
ally vanished,  and  thousands  upon  thousands  of  voices 
rent  the  air  with  shouts  of  exultation  and  joy. 

Arrived  at  the  foot  of  the  great  staircase,  which  then 
made  the  principal  ascent  to  the  square  of  the  Capitol, 
the  procession  halted ;  and  as  the  crowd  filled  up  that 
vast  space  in  front — adorned  and  hallowed  by  many 
of  the  most  majestic  columns  of  the  temples  of  old — 
Rienzi  addressed  the  Populace,  whom  he  had  sud- 
denly elevated  into  a  People. 

He  depicted  forcibly  the  servitude  and  misery  of 
the  citizens — the  utter  absence  of  all  law — the  want 
even  of  common  security  to  life  and  property.  He 
declared  that,  undaunted  by  the  peril  he  incurred,  he 
devoted  his  life  to  the  regeneration  of  their  common 
country ;  and  he  solemnly  appealed  to  the  people  to 
assist  the  enterprise,  and  at  once  to  sanction  and  con- 
solidate the  Revolution  by  an  established  code  of  law 


Forth  issued  Rienzi,  clad  in  complete  armour. 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES        179 

and  a  Constitutional  Assembly.  He  then  ordered  the 
chart  and  outline  of  the  Constitution  he  proposed,  to 
be  read  by  the  Herald  to  the  multitude. 

It  created, — or  rather  revived,  with  new  privileges 
and  powers, — a  Representative  Assembly  of  Coun- 
cillors. It  proclaimed,  as  its  first  law,  one  that  seems 
simple  enough  to  our  happier  times,  but  never  hith- 
erto executed  at  Rome :  Every  wilful  homicide,  of 
whatever  rank,  was  to  be  punished  by  death.  It  en- 
acted, that  no  private  noble  or  citizen  should  be  suf- 
fered to  maintain  fortifications  and  garrisons  in  the 
city  or  the  country ;  that  the  gates  and  bridges  of  the 
State  should  be  under  the  control  of  whomsoever 
should  be  elected  Chief  Magistrate.  It  forbade  all 
harbour  of  brigands,  mercenaries,  and  robbers,  on 
payment  of  a  thousand  marks  of  silver ;  and  it  made 
the  Barons  who  possessed  the  neighbouring  territories 
responsible  for  the  safety  of  the  roads,  and  the  trans- 
port of  merchandise.  It  took  under  the  protection  of 
the  State  the  widow  and  the  orphan.  It  appointed, 
in  each  of  the  quarters  of  the  city,  an  armed  militia, 
whom  the  tolling  of  the  bell  of  the  Capitol,  at  any 
hour,  was  to  assemble  to  the  protection  of  the  State. 
It  ordained,  that  in  each  harbour  of  the  coast,  a  ves- 
sel should  be  stationed,  for  the  safeguard  of  commerce. 
It  decreed  the  sum  of  one  hundred  florins  to  the  heirs 
of  every  man  who  died  in  the  defence  of  Rome ;  and  it 
devoted  the  public  revenues  to  the  service  and  protec- 
tion of  the  State. 

Such,  moderate  at  once  and  effectual,  was  the  out- 
line of  the  New  Constitution ;  and  it  may  amuse  the 
reader  to  consider  how  great  must  have  been  the 
previous  disorders  of  the  city,  when  the  common  and 
ielementary  provisions  of  civilisation  and  security  made 


i8o  RIENZI 

the  character  of  the  code  proposed,  and  the  limit  of  a 
popular  revolution. 

The  most  rapturous  shouts  followed  this  sketch  of 
the  New  Constitution :  and,  amidst  the  clamour,  up 
rose  the  huge  form  of  Cecco  del  Vecchio.  Despite  his 
condition,  he  was  a  man  of  great  importance  at  the 
present  crisis:  his  zeal  and  his  courage, 'and,  perhaps, 
still  more,  his  brute  passion  and  stubborn  prejudice, 
had  made  him  popular.  The  lower  order  of  mechanics 
looked  to  him  as  their  head  and  representative ;  out, 
then,  he  spake  loud  and  fearlessly, — speaking  well,  be- 
cause his  mind  was  full  of  what  he  had  to  say. 

"  Countrymen  and  Citizens ! — This  New  Constitu- 
tion meets  with  your  approbation — so  it  ought.  But 
what  are  good  laws,  if  we  do  not  have  good  men  to 
execute  them  ?  Who  can  execute  a  law  so  well  as  the 
man  who  designs  it?  If  you  ask  me  to  give  you  a 
notion  how  to  make  a  good  shield,  and  my  notion 
pleases  you,  would  you  ask  me,  or  another  smith,  to 
make  it  for  you?  If  you  ask  another,  he  may  make 
a  good  shield,  but  it  would  not  be  the  same  as  that 
which  I  should  have  made,  and  the  description  of 
which  contented  you.  Cola  di  Rienzi  has  proposed 
a  Code  of  Law  that  shall  be  our  shield.  Who  should 
see  that  the  shield  become  what  he  proposes,  but  Cola 
di  Rienzi?  Romans!  I  suggest  that  Cola  di  Rienzi 
be  intrusted  by  the  people  with  the  authority,  by  what- 
soever name  he  pleases,  of  carrying  the  New  Consti- 
tution into  effect ; — and  whatever  be  the  means,  we, 
the  People,  will  bear  him  harmless." 

"  Long  life  to  Rienzi ! — long  live  Cecco  del  Vec- 
chio! He  hath  spoken  well! — none  but  the  Law- 
maker shall  be  the  Governor !  " 

Such  were  the  acclamations  which  greeted  the  am- 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES        181 

bitious  heart  of  the  Scholar.  The  voice  of  the  people 
invested  him  with  the  supreme  power.  He  had  cre- 
ated a  Commonwealth — to  become,  if  he  desired  it,  a 
Despot ! 


CHAPTER   VII 

LOOKING    AFTER    THE    HALTER    WHEN    THE    MARE    IS 
STOLEN 

While  such  were  the  events  at  Rome,  a  servitor  of 
Stephen  Colonna  was  already  on  his  way  to  Corneto. 
The  astonishment  with  which  the  old  Baron  received 
the  intelligence  may  be  easily  imagined.  He  lost  not 
a  moment  in  convening  his  troop ;  and,  while  in  all  the 
bustle  of  departure,  the  Knight  of  St.  John  abruptly 
entered  his  presence.  His  mien  had  lost  its  usual 
frank  composure. 

"  How  is  this  ?  "  said  he,  hastily  ;  "  a  revolt  ? — Rienzi 
sovereign  of  Rome  ? — can  the  news  be  believed  ?  " 

"  It  is  too  true ! "  said  Colonna,  with  a  bitter  smile. 
"  Where  shall  we  hang  him  on  our  return  ?  " 

"  Talk  not  so  wildly,  Sir  Baron,"  replied  Montreal, 
discourteously ;  "  Rienzi  is  stronger  than  you  think 
for.  I  know  what  men  are,  and  you  only  know  what 
noblemen  are  !  Where  is  your  kinsman,  Adrian  ?  " 

"  He  is  here,  noble  Montreal,"  said  Stephen,  shrug- 
ging his  shoulders,  with  a  half-disdainful  smile  at  the 
rebuke,  which  he  thought  it  more  prudent  not  to 
resent;  "  he  is  here! — see  him  enter!  " 

"  You  have  heard  the  news  ?  "  exclaimed  Montreal. 

"  I  have." 

"  And  despise  the  revolution  ?  " 

"I  fear  it!" 


1 82  RIENZI 

"  Then  you  have  some  sense  in  you.  But  this  is 
none  of  my  affair:  I  will  not  interrupt  your  consulta- 
tions. Adieu  for  the  present ! "  and,  ere  Stephen 
could  prevent  him,  the  Knight  had  quitted  the  cham- 
ber. 

"  What  means  this  demagogue  ?  "  Montreal  mut- 
tered to  himself.  "  Would  he  trick  me  ? — has  he  got 
rid  of  my  presence  in  order  to  monopolise  all  the  profit 
of  the  enterprise?  I  fear  me  so! — the  cunning  Ro- 
man !  We  northern  warriors  could  never  compete 
with  the  intellect  of  these  Italians  but  for  their  cow- 
ardice. But  what  shall  be  done?  I  have  already  bid 
Rodolf  communicate  with  the  brigands,  and  they  are 
on  the  eve  of  departure  from  their  present  lord.  Well ! 
let  it  be  so !  Better  that  I  should  first  break  the  power 
of  the  Barons,  and  then  make  my  own  terms,  sword 
in  hand,  with  the  plebeian.  And  if  I  fail  in  this, — 
sweet  Adeline !  I  shall  see  thee  again ! — that  is  some 
comfort ! — and  Louis  of  Hungary  will  bid  high  for  the 
arm  and  brain  of  Walter  de  Montreal.  What,  ho! 
Rodolf !  "  he  exclaimed  aloud,  as  the  sturdy  form  of 
the  trooper,  half-armed  and  half-intoxicated,  reeled 
along  the  court-yard.  "  Knave  !  art  thou  drunk  at  this 
hour?" 

"  Drunk  or  sober,"  answered  Rodolf,  bending  low, 
"  I  am  at  thy  bidding." 

"  Well  said  ! — are  thy  friends  ripe  for  the  saddle  ?  " 

"  Eighty  of  them  already  tired  of  idleness  and  the 
dull  air  of  Rome,  will  fly  wherever  Sir  Walter  de  Mon- 
treal wishes." 

"  Hasten,  then, — bid  them  mount ;  we  go  not  hence 
with  the  Colonna — we  leave  while  they  are  yet  talk- 
ing ! — Bid  my  squires  attend  me !  " 

And  when  Stephen  Colonna  was  settling  himself  on 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES        183 

his  palfrey,  he  heard,  for  the  first  time,  that  the  Knight 
of  Provence,  Rodolf  the  trooper,  and  eighty  of  the 
stipendiaries,  had  already  departed, — whither,  none 
knew. 

"  To  precede  us  to  Rome !  gallant  barbarian !  "  said 
Colonna.     "  Sirs,  on  !  " 


CHAPTER    VIII 

THE    ATTACK THE    RETREAT — THE    ELECTION — AND 

THE   ADHESION 

Arriving  at  Rome,  the  company  of  the  Colonna 
found  the  gates  barred,  and  the  walls  manned.  Ste- 
phen bade  advance  his  trumpeters,  with  one  of  his 
captains,  imperiously  to  demand  admittance. 

"  We  have  orders,"  replied  the,  chief  of  the  town- 
guard,  "  to  admit  none  who  bear  arms,  flags,  or 
trumpets.  Let  the  Lords  Colonna  dismiss  their  train, 
and  they  are  welcome." 

"  Whose  are  these  insolent  mandates  ?  "  asked  the 
captain. 

"  Those  of  the  Lord  Bishop  of  Orvietto  and  Cola 
di  Rienzi,  joint  protectors  of  the  Buono  Stato."* 

The  captain  of  the  Colonna  returned  to  his  chief 
with  these  tidings.  The  rage  of  Stephen  was  inde- 
scribable. "  Go  back,"  he  cried,  as  soon  as  he  could 
summon  voice,  "  and  say,  that,  if  the  gates  are  not 
forthwith  opened  to  me  and  mine,  the  blood  of  the 
plebeians  be  on  their  own  head.  As  for  Raimond, 
Vicars  of  the  Pope  have  high  spiritual  authority,  none 
temporal.  Let  him  prescribe  a  fast,  and  he  shall  be 

*  Good  Estate. 


184  RIENZI 

obeyed ;  but,  for  the  rash  Rienzi,  say  that  Stephen  Co- 
lonna  will  seek  him  in  the  Capitol  to-morrow,  for  the 
purpose  of  throwing  him  out  of  the  highest  window." 

These  messages  the  envoy  failed  not  to  deliver. 

The  captain  of  the  Romans  was  equally  stern  in  his 
reply. 

"  Declare  to  your  Lord,"  said  he,  "  that  Rome  holds 
him  and  his  as  rebels  and  traitors;  and  that  the 
moment  you  regain  your  troop,  our  archers  receive 
our  command  to  draw  their  bows — in  the  name  of  the 
Pope,  the  City,  and  the  Liberator." 

This  threat  was  executed  to  the  letter;  and  ere  the 
old  Baron  had  time  to  draw  up  his  men  in  the  best 
array,  the  gates  were  thrown  open,  and  a  well-armed, 
if  undisciplined,  multitude  poured  forth,  with  fierce 
shouts,  clashing  their  arms,  and  advancing  the  azure 
banners  of  the  Roman  State.  So  desperate  their 
charge,  and  so  great  their  numbers,  that  the  Barons, 
after  a  short  and  tumultuous  conflict,  were  driven 
back,  and  chased  by  their  pursuers  for  more  than  a 
mile  from  the  walls  of  the  city. 

As  soon  as  the  Barons  recovered  their  disorder  and 
dismay,  a  hasty  council  was  held,  at  which  various  and 
contradictory  opinions  were  loudly  urged.  Some  were 
for  departing  on  the  instant  to  Palestrina,  which  be- 
longed to  the  Colonna,  and  possessed  an  almost  inac- 
cessible fortress.  Others  were  for  dispersing,  and  en- 
tering peaceably,  and  in  detached  parties,  through  the 
other  gates.  Stephen  Colonna — himself  incensed  and 
disturbed  from  his  usual  self-command — was  unable  to 
preserve  his  authority;  Luca  di  Savelli,*  a  timid, 

*  The  more  correct  orthography  were  Luca  di  Savello,  but 
the  one  in  the  text  is  preserved  as  more  familiar  to  the  Eng- 
lish reader. 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES        185 

though  treacherous  and  subtle  man,  already  turned 
his  horse's  head,  and  summoned  his  men  to  follow  him 
to  his  castle  in  Romagna,  when  the  old  Colonna  be- 
thought himself  of  a  method  by  which  to  keep  his 
band  from  a  disunion  that  he  had  the  sense  to  perceive 
would  prove  fatal  to  the  common  cause.  He  pro- 
posed that  they  should  at  once  repair  to  Palestrina, 
and  there  fortify  themselves;  while  one  of  the  chiefs 
should  be  selected  to  enter  Rome  alone,  and  appar- 
ently submissive,  to  examine  the  strength  of  Rienzi; 
and  with  the  discretionary  power  to  resist  if  possible, — 
or  to  make  the  best  terms  he  could  for  the  admission 
of  the  rest. 

"  And  who,"  asked  Savelli,  sneeringly,  "  will  under- 
take this  dangerous  mission?  Who,  unarmed  and 
alone,  will  expose  himself  to  the  rage  of  the  fiercest 
populace  of  Italy,  and  the  caprice  of  a  demagogue  in 
the  first  flush  of  his  power?  " 

The  Barons  and  the  Captains  looked  at  each  other 
in  silence.  Savelli  laughed. 

Hitherto  Adrian  had  taken  no  part  in  the  confer- 
ence, and  but  little  in  the  previous  contest.  He  now 
came  to  the  support  of  his  kinsman. 

"  Signers !  "  said  he,  "  I  will  undertake  this  mission, 
— but  on  mine  own  account,  independently  of  yours ; — 
free  to  act  as  I  may  think  best,  for  the  dignity  of  a 
Roman  noble,  and  the  interests  of  a  Roman  citizen; 
free  to  raise  my  standard  on  mine  own  tower,  or  to 
yield  fealty  to  the  new  estate." 

"  Well  said ! "  cried  the  old  Colonna,  hastily. 
"  Heaven  forbid  we  should  enter  Rome  as  foes,  if  to 
enter  it  as  friends  be  yet  allowed  us!  What  say  ye, 
gentles?  " 

"  A  more  worthy  choice  could  not  be  selected,"  said 


186  RIENZI 

Savelli ;  "  but  I  should  scarce  deem  it  possible  that  a 
Colonna  could  think  there  was  an  option  between  re- 
sistance and  fealty  to  this  upstart  revolution." 

"Of  that,  Signor,  I  will  judge  for  myself;  if  you 
demand  an  agent  for  yourselves,  choose  another.  I 
announce  to  ye  frankly,  that  I  have  seen  enough  of 
other  states  to  think  the  recent  condition  of  Rome 
demanded  some  redress.  Whether  Rienzi  and  Rai- 
mond  be  worthy  of  the  task  they  have  assumed,  I 
know  not." 

Savelli  was  silent.  The  old  Colonna  seized  the 
word. 

"  To  Palestrina,  then ! — are  ye  all  agreed  on  this  ? 
At  the  worst,  or  at  the  best,  we  should  not  be  divided ! 
On  this  condition  alone  I  .hazard  the  safety  of  my 
kinsman ! " 

The  Barons  murmured  a  little  among  themselves ; — 
the  expediency  of  Stephen's  proposition  was  evident, 
and  they  at  length  assented  to  it. 

Adrian  saw  them  depart,  and  then,  attended  only  by 
his  'squire,  slowly  rode  towards  a  more  distant  en- 
trance into  the  city.  On  arriving  at  the  gates,  his 
name  was  demanded — he  gave  it  (reely. 

"  Enter,  my  Lord,"  said  the  warder,  "  our  orders 
were  to  admit  all  that  came  unarmed  and  unattended. 
But  to  the  Lord  Adrian  di  Castello,  alone,  we  had  a 
special  injunction  to  give  the  honours  due  to  a  citizen 
and  a  friend." 

Adrian,  a  little  touched  by  this  implied  recollection 
of  friendship,  now  rode  through  a  long  line  of  armed 
citizens,  who  saluted  him  respectfully  as  he  passed, 
and,  as  he  returned  the  salutation  with  courtesy,  a  loud 
and  approving  shout  followed  his  horse's  steps. 

So,  save  by  one  attendant,  alone,  and  in  peace,  the 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES        187 

young  patrician  proceeded  leisurely  through  the  long 
streets,  empty  and  deserted, — for  nearly  one  half  of  the 
inhabitants  were  assembled  at  the  walls,  and  nearly 
the  other  half  were  engaged  in  a  more  peaceful  duty, — 
until,  penetrating  the  interior,  the  wide  and  elevated 
space  of  the  Capitol  broke  upon  his  sight.  The  sun 
was  slowly  setting  over  an  immense  multitude  that 
overspread  the  spot,  and  high  above  a  scaffold  raised 
in  the  centre,  shone,  to  the  western  ray,  the  great 
Gonfalon  of  Rome,  studded  with  silver  stars. 

Adrian  reined  in  his  steed.  "  This,"  thought  he, 
"  is  scarcely  the  hour  thus  publicly  to  confer  with 
Rienzi ;  yet  fain  would  I,  mingled  with  the  crowd, 
judge  how  far  his  power  is  supported,  and  in  what 
manner  it  is  borne."  Musing  a  little,  he  withdrew  into 
one  of  the  obscurer  streets,  then  wholly  deserted,  sur- 
rendered his  horse  to  his  'squire,  and,  borrowing  of 
the  latter  his  morion  and  long  mantle,  passed  to  one 
of  the  more  private  entrances  of  the  Capitol,  and, 
enveloped  in  his  cloak,  stood — one  of  the  crowd — in- 
tent upon  all  that  followed. 

"  And  what,"  he  asked  of  a  plainly  dressed  citizen, 
"  is  the  cause  of  this  assembly  ?  " 

"  Heard  you  not  the  proclamation  ?  "  returned  the 
other  in  some  surprise.  "  Do  you  not  know  that  the 
Council  of  the  City  and  the  Guilds  of  the  Artizans  have 
passed  a  vote  to  proffer  to  Rienzi  the  title  of  king  of 
Rome  ?  " 

The  Knight  of  the  Emperor,  to  whom  belonged  that 
august  dignity,  drew  back  in  dismay. 

"  And,"  resumed  the  citizen,  "  this  assembly  of  all 
the  lesser  Barons,  Councillors,  and  Artificers,  is  con- 
vened to  hear  the  answer." 

"  Of  course  it  will  be  assent?  " 


i88  RIENZI 

"  I  know  not — there  are  strange  rumours ;  hitherto 
the  Liberator  has  concealed  his  sentiments." 

At  that  instant  a  loud  flourish  of  martial  music  an- 
nounced the  approach  of  Rienzi.  The  crowd  tumul- 
tuously  divided,  and  presently,  from  the  Palace  of  the 
Capitol  to  the  scaffold,  passed  Rienzi,  still  in  complete 
armour,  save  the  helmet,  and  with  him,  in  all  the  pomp 
of  his  episcopal  robes,  Raimond  of  Orvietto. 

As  soon  as  Rienzi  had  ascended  the  platform,  and 
was  thus  made  visible  to  the  whole  concourse,  no 
words  can  suffice  to  paint  the  enthusiasm  of  the  scene 
— the  shouts,  the  gestures,  the  tears,  the  sobs,  the  wild 
laughter,  in  which  the  sympathy  of  those  lively  and 
susceptible  children  of  the  South  broke  forth.  The 
windows  and  balconies  of  the  Palace  were  thronged 
with  the  wives  and  daughters  of  the  lesser  Barons  and 
more  opulent  citizens ;  and  Adrian,  with  a  slight  start, 
beheld  amongst  them, — pale — agitated — tearful, — the 
lovely  face  of  his  Irene — a  face  that  even  thus  would 
have  outshone  all  present,  but  for  one  by  her  side, 
whose  beauty  the  emotion  of  the  hour  only  served  to 
embellish.  The  dark,  large,  and  flashing  eyes  of  Nina 
di  Raselli,  just  bedewed,  were  fixed  proudly  on  the 
hero  of  her  choice:  and  pride,  even  more  than  joy, 
gave  a  richer  carnation  to  her  cheek,  and  the  presence 
of  a  queen  to  her  noble  and  rounded  form.  The  set- 
ting sun  poured  its  full  glory  over  the  spot ;  the  bared 
heads — the  animated  faces  of  the  crowd — the  gray  and 
vast  mass  of  the  Capitol ;  and,  not  far  from  the  side  of 
Rienzi,  it  brought  into  a  strange  and  startling  light 
the  sculptured  form  of  a  colossal  Lion  of  Basalt,* 

*  The  existent  Capitol  is  very  different  from  the  building  at 
the  time  of  Rienzi;  and  the  reader  must  not  suppose  that  the 
present  staircase,  designed  by  Michael  Angelo,  at  the  base  of 
which  are  two  marble  lions,  removed  by  Pius  IV.  from  the 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES        189 

which  gave  its  name  to  a  staircase  leading  to  the  Cap- 
itol. It  was  an  old  Egyptian  relic, — vast,  worn,  and 
grim ;  some  symbol  of  a  vanished  creed,  to  whose 
face  the  sculptor  had  imparted  something  of  the  aspect 
of  the  human  countenance.  And  this  producing  the 
effect  probably  sought,  gave  at  all  times  a  mystic,  pre- 
ternatural, and  fearful  expression  to  the  stern  features, 
and  to  that  solemn  and  hushed  repose,  which  is  so 
peculiarly  the  secret  of  Egyptian  sculpture.  The  awe 
which  this  colossal  and  frowning  image  was  calculated 
to  convey,  was  felt  yet  more  deeply  by  the  vulgar, 
because  "  the  Staircase  of  the  Lion  "  was  the  wonted 
place  of  the  state  executions,  as  of  the  state  ceremo- 
nies. And  seldom  did  the  stoutest  citizen  forget  to 
cross  himself,  or  feel  unchilled  with  a  certain  terror, 
whenever,  passing  by  the  place,  he  caught,  suddenly 
fixed  upon  him,  the  stony  gaze  and  ominous  grin  of 
that  old  monster  from  the  cities  of  the  Nile. 

It  was  some  minutes  before  the  feelings  of  the  as- 
sembly allowed  Rienzi  to  be  heard.  But  when,  at 
length,  the  last  shout  closed  with  a  simultaneous  cry  of 
"  Long  live  Rienzi !  Deliverer  and  King  of  Rome !  " 
he  raised  his  hand  impatiently,  and  the  curiosity  of 
the  crowd  procured  a  sudden  silence. 

"  Deliverer  of  Rome,  my  countrymen ! "  said  he. 
"  Yes !  change  not  that  title — I  am  too  ambitious  to 
be  a  King !  Preserve  your  obedience  to  your  Pontiff 
— your  allegiance  to  your  Emperor — but  be  faithful  to 
your  own  liberties.  Ye  have  a  right  to  your  ancient 
constitution ;  but  that  constitution  needed  not  a  king. 
Emulous  of  the  name  of  Brutus,  I  am  above  the  titles 

Church  of  St.  Stephen  del  Cacco,  was  the  staircase  of  the 
Lion  of  Basalt,  which  bears  so  stern  a  connexion  with  the 
history  of  Rienzi.  That  mute  witness  of  dark  deeds  is  no 
more. 


190  RIENZI 

of  a  Tarquin  !  Romans,  awake !  awake  !  be  inspired 
with  a  nobler  love  of  liberty  than  that  which,  if  it  de- 
thrones the  tyrant  of  to-day,  would  madly  risk  the 
danger  of  tyranny  for  to-morrow !  Rome  wants  still 
a  liberator — never  an  usurper! — Take  away  yon  bau- 
ble ! " 

There  was  a  pause ;  the  crowd  were  deeply  affected 
— but  they  uttered  no  shouts ;  they  looked  anxiously 
for  a  reply  from  their  councillors,  or  popular  leaders. 

"  Signer,"  said  Pandulfo  di  Guide,  who  was  one  of 
the  Caporioni,  "  your  answer  is  worthy  of  your  fame. 
But,  in  order  to  enforce  the  law,  Rome  must  endow 
you  with  a  legal  title — if  not  that  of  King,  deign  to 
accept  that  of  Dictator  or  of  Consul." 

"  Long  live  the  Consul  Rienzi ! "  cried  several 
voices. 

Rienzi  waved  his  hand  for  silence. 

"  Pandulfo  di  Guido !  and  you,  honoured  Council- 
lors of  Rome!  such  title  is  at  once  too  august  for  my 
merits,  and  too  inapplicable  to  my  functions.  I  am 
one  of  the  people — the  people  are  my  charge;  the 
nobles  can  protect  themselves.  Dictator  and  Consul 
are  the  appellations  of  patricians.  No,"  he  con- 
tinued after  a  short  pause,  "  if  ye  deem  it  necessary, 
for  the  preservation  of  order,  that  your  fellow-citizen 
should  be  entrusted  with  a  formal  title  and  a  recog- 
nised power,  be  it  so :  but  let  it  be  such  as  may  attest 
the  nature  of  our  new  institutions,  the  wisdom  of  the 
people,  and  the  moderation  of  their  leaders.  Once, 
my  countrymen,  the  people  elected,  for  the  protectors 
of  their  rights  and  the  guardians  of  their  freedom, 
certain  officers  responsible  to  the  people, — chosen 
from  the  people, — provident  for  the  people.  Their 
power  was  great,  but  it  was  delegated:  a  dignity,  but 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES        191 

a  trust.  The  name  of  these  officers  was  that  of 
Tribune.  Such  is  the  title  that  conceded,  not  by 
clamour  alone,  but  in  the  full  Parliament  of  the  people, 
and  accompanied  by,  such  Parliament,  ruling  with 
such  Parliament, — such  is  the  title  I  will  gratefully 
accept."* 

The  speech,  the  sentiments  of  Rienzi  were  rendered 
far  more  impressive  by  a  manner  of  earnest  and  deep 
sincerity;  and  some  of  the  Romans,  despite  their  cor- 
ruption, felt  a  momentary  exultation  in  the  forbear- 
ance of  their  chief.  "  Long  live  the  Tribune  of 
Rome !  "  was  shouted,  but  less  loud  than  the  cry  of 
"  Live  the  King !  "  And  the  vulgar  almost  thought 
the  revolution  was  incomplete,  because  the  loftier  title 
was  not  assumed.  To  a  degenerate  and  embruted 
people,  liberty  seems  too  plain  a  thing,  if  unadorned 
by  the  pomp  of  the  very  despotism  they  would  de- 
throne. Revenge  is  their  desire,  rather  than  Release ; 
and  the  greater  the  new  power  they  create,  the  greater 
seems  their  revenge  against  the  old.  Still  all  that  was 
most  respected,  intelligent,  and  powerful  amongst  the 
assembly,  were  delighted  at  a  temperance  which  they 
foresaw  would  free  Rome  from  a  thousand  dangers, 
whether  from  the  Emperor  or  the  Pontiff.  And  their 
delight  was  yet  increased,  when  Rienzi  added,  so  soon 
as  returning  silence  permitted — "  And  since  we  have 
been  equal  labourers  in  the  same  cause,  whatever  hon- 
ours be  awarded  to  me,  should  be  extended  also  to  the 

*  Gibbon  and  Sismondi  alike,  (neither  of  whom  appears  to 
have  consulted  with  much  attention  the  original  documents 
preserved  by  Hocsemius,)  say  nothing  of  the  Representative 
Parliament,  which  it  was  almost  Rienzi's  first  public  act  to 
institute  or  model.  Six  days  from  the  memorable  iQth  of 
May,  he  addressed  the  people  of  Viterbo  in  a  letter  yet  extant. 
He  summons  them  to  elect  and  send  two  syndics,  or  ambas- 
sadors, to  the  general  Parliament. 


192  RIENZI 

Vicar  of  the  Pope,  Raimond,  Lord  Bishop  of  Orvietto. 
Remember,  that  both  Church  and  State  are  properly 
the  rulers  of  the  people,  only  because  their  benefac- 
tors.— Long  live  the  first  Vicar  of  a  Pope  that  was 
ever  also  the  Liberator  of  a  State !  " 

Whether  or  not  Rienzi  was  only  actuated  by  patriot- 
ism in  his  moderation,  certain  it  is,  that  his  sagacity 
was  at  least  equal  to  his  virtue ;  and  perhaps  nothing 
could  have  cemented  the  revolution  more  strongly, 
than  thus  obtaining  for  a  colleague  the  Vicar,  and 
Representative  of  the  Pontifical  power:  it  borrowed, 
for  the  time,  the  sanction  of  the  Pope  himself — thus 
made  to  share  the  responsibility  of  the  revolution,  with- 
out monopolising  the  power  of  the  State. 

While  the  crowd  hailed  the  proposition  of  Rienzi; 
while  their  shouts  yet  filled  the  air;  while  Raimond, 
somewhat  taken  by  surprise,  sought  by  signs  and  ges- 
tures to  convey  at  once  his  gratitude  and  his  humility, 
the  Tribune-Elect,  casting  his  eyes  around,  perceived 
many  hitherto  attracted  by  curiosity,  and  whom,  from 
their  rank  and  weight,  it  was  desirable  to  secure  in  the 
first  heat  of  the  public  enthusiasm.  Accordingly,  as 
soon  as  Raimond  had  uttered  a  short  and  pompous 
harangue, — in  which  his  eager  acceptance  of  the 
honour  proposed  him  was  ludicrously  contrasted  by 
his  embarrassed  desire  not  to  involve  himself  or  the 
Pope  in  any  untoward  consequences  that  might  ensue, 
— Rienzi  motioned  to  two  heralds  that  stood  behind 
upon  the  platform,  and  one  of  these  advancing,  pro- 
claimed— "  That  as  it  was  desirable  that  all  hitherto 
neuter  should  now  profess  themselves  friends  or  foes, 
so  they  were  invited  to  take  at  once  the  oath  of  obedi- 
ence to  the  laws,  and  subscription  to  the  Buono  Stato." 

So  great  was  the  popular  fervour,  and  so  much  had 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES        193 

it  been  refined  and  deepened  in  its  tone  by  the  ad- 
dresses of  Rienzi,  that  even  the  most  indifferent  had 
caught  the  contagion :  and  no  man  liked  to  be  seen 
shrinking  from  the  rest :  so  that  the  most  neutral, 
knowing  themselves  the  most  marked,  were  the  most 
entrapped  into  allegiance  to  the  Buono  Stato.  The 
first  who  advanced  to  the  platform  and  took  the  oath 
was  the  Signer  di  Raselli,  the  father  of  Nina. — Others 
of  the  lesser  nobility  followed  his  example. 

The  presence  of  the  Pope's  Vicar  induced  the  aristo- 
cratic ;  the  fear  of  the  people  urged  the  selfish ;  the 
encouragement  of  shouts  and  congratulations  excited 
the  vain.  The  space  between  Adrian  and  Rienzi  was 
made  clear.  The  young  noble  suddenly  felt  the  eyes 
of  the  Tribune  were  upon  him ;  he  felt  that  those  eyes 
recognised  and  called  upon  him — he  coloured — he 
breathed  short.  The  noble  forbearance  of  Rienzi  had 
touched  him  to  the  heart ; — the  applause — the  pageant 
— the  enthusiasm  of  the  scene,  intoxicated — confused 
him. — He  lifted  his  eyes  and  saw  before  him  the  sister 
of  the  Tribune — the  lady  of  his  love !  His  indecision 
— his  pause — continued,  when  Raimond,  observing 
him,  and  obedient  to  a  whisper  from  Rienzi,  artfully 
cried  aloud — "  Room  for  the  Lord  Adrian  di  Castello ! 
a  Colonna !  a  Colonna !  "  Retreat  was  cut  off.  Me- 
chanically, and  as  if  in  a  dream,  Adrian  ascended  to 
the  platform :  and  to  complete  the  triumph  of  the 
Tribune,  the  sun's  last  ray  beheld  the  flower  of  the 
Colonna — the  best  and  bravest  of  the  Barons  of  Rome 
— confessing  his  authority,  and  subscribing  to  his  laws. 
13 


BOOK   III 

THE   FREEDOM   WITHOUT  LAW 

"  Ben  furo  avventurosi  i  cavalieri 
Ch'  erano  a  quella  eta,  che  nei  valloni, 
Nelle  scure  spelonche  e  boschi  fieri, 
Tane  di  serpi,  d'  orsi  e  di  leoni, 
Trovavan  quel  che  nei  palazzi  altieri 
Appena  or  trovar  pon  giudici  buoni; 
Donne  che  nella  lor  piu  fresca  etade 
Sien  degne  di  aver  titol  di  beltade." 

ARIOSTO,  Orl.  Fur.  can.  xiii,  i 

CHAPTER   I 

THE    RETURN    OF    WALTER    DE    MONTREAL    TO    HIS 
FORTRESS 

When  Walter  de  Montreal  and  his  mercenaries 
quitted  Corneto,  they  made  the  best  of  their  way  to 
Rome;  arriving  there,  long  before  the  Barons,  they 
met  with  a  similar  reception  at  the  gates,  but  Montreal 
prudently  forbore  all  attack  and  menace,  and  con- 
tented himself  with  sending  his  trusty  Rodolf  into  the 
city  to  seek  Rienzi,  and  to  crave  permission  to  enter 
with  his  troop.  Rodolf  returned  in  a  shorter  time 
than  was  anticipated.  "  Well,"  said  Montreal  impa- 
tiently, "  you  have  the  order  I  suppose.  Shall  we  bid 
them  open  the  gates  ?  " 

"  Bid  them  open  our  graves,"  replied  the  Saxon, 
bluntly.     "  I  trust  my  next  heraldry  will  be  to  a  more 
friendly  court." 
194 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES        195 

"  How !  what  mean  you  ?  " 

"  Briefly  this : — I  found  the  new  governor,  or  what- 
ever his  title,  in  the  palace  of  the  Capitol,  surrounded 
by  guards  and  councillors,  and  in  a  suit  of  the  finest 
armour  I  ever- saw  out  of  Milan." 

"  Pest  on  his  armour !  give  us  his  answer." 

" '  Tell  Walter  de  Montreal/  said  he,  then,  if  you 
will  have  it,  '  that  Rome  is  no  longer  a  den  of  thieves ; 
tell  him,  that  if  he  enters,  he  must  abide  a  trial ' " 

"  A  trial !  "  cried  Montreal,  grinding  his  teeth. 

" '  For  participation  in  the  evil  doings  of  Werner 
and  his  freebooters.' " 

"Ha!" 

" '  Tell  him,  moreover,  that  Rome  declares  war 
against  all  robbers,  whether  in  tent  or  tower,  and  that 
we  order  him  in  forty-eight  hours  to  quit  the  terri- 
tories of  the  Church.' " 

"  He  thinks,  then,  not  only  to  deceive,  but  to 
menace  me?  Well,  proceed." 

"  That  was  all  his  reply  to  you ;  to  me,  however,  he 
vouchsafed  a  caution  still  more  obliging.  '  Hark  ye, 
friend,'  said  he,  '  for  every  German  bandit  found  in 
Rome  after  to-morrow,  our  welcome  will  be  cord  and 
gibbet !  Begone.' " 

"  Enough !  enough !  "  cried  Montreal,  colouring 
with  rage  and  shame.  "  Rodolf,  you  have  a  skilful 
eye  in  these  matters,  how  many  Northmen  would  it 
take  to  give  that  same  gibbet  to  the  upstart  ?  " 

Rodolf  scratched  his  huge  head,  and  seemed  awhile 
lost  in  calculation;  at  length  he  said,  "  You,  Captain, 
must  be  the  best  judge,  when  I  tell  you,  that  twenty 
thousand  Romans  are  the  least  of  his  force  ;  so  I  heard 
by  the  way ;  and  this  evening  he  is  to  accept  the  crown, 
and  depose  the  Emperor." 


196  RIENZI 

"  Ha,  ha !  "  laughed  Montreal,  "  is  he  so  mad  ? 
then  he  will  want  not  our  aid  to  hang  himself.  My 
friends,  let  us  wait  the  result.  At  present  neither 
barons  nor  people  seem  likely  to  fill  our  coffers. 
Let  us  across  the  country  to  Terracina.  Thank  the 
saints,"  and  Montreal  (who  was  not  without  a 
strange  kind  of  devotion, — indeed  he  deemed  that 
virtue  essential  to  chivalry)  crossed  himself  piously, 
"  the  free  companions  are  never  long  without  quar- 
ters!" 

"  Hurrah  for  the  Knight  of  St.  John !  "  cried  the 
mercenaries.  "  And  hurrah  for  fair  Provence  and 
bold  Germany !  "  added  the  Knight,  as  he  waved  his 
hand  on  high,  struck  spurs  into  his  already  wearied 
horse,  and,  breaking  out  into  his  favourite  song, 

"  His  steed  and  his  sword, 
And  his  lady  the  peerless,"  &c., 

Montreal,  with  his  troop,  struck  gallantly  across  the 
Campagna. 

The  Knight  of  St.  John  soon,  however,  fell  into  an 
absorbed  and  moody  reverie ;  and  his  followers  im- 
itating the  silence  of  their  chief,  in  a  few  minutes  the 
clatter  of  their  arms  and  the  jingle  of  their  spurs,  alone 
disturbed  the  stillness  of  the  wide  and  gloomy  plains 
across  which  they  made  towards  Terracina.  Montreal 
was  recalling  with  bitter  resentment  his  conference 
with  Rienzi ;  and,  proud  of  his  own  sagacity  and  talent 
for  scheming,  he  was  humbled  and  vexed  at  the  dis- 
covery that  he  had  been  duped  by  a  wilier  intriguer. 
His  ambitious  designs  on  Rome,  too,  were  crossed, 
and  even  crushed  for  the  moment,  by  the  very  means 
to  which  he  had  looked  for  their  execution.  He  had 
seen  enough  of  the  barons  to  feel  assured  that  while 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES        197 

Stephen  Colonna  lived,  the  head  of  the  order,  he  was 
not  likely  to  obtain  that  mastery  in  the  state  which, 
if  leagued  with  a  more  ambitious  or  a  less  timid  and 
less  potent  signer,  might  reward  his  aid  in  expelling 
Rienzi.  Under  all  circumstances,  he  deemed  it  ad- 
visable to  remain  aloof.  Should  Rienzi  grow  strong, 
Montreal  might  make  the  advantageous  terms  he 
desired  with  the  Barons ;  should  Rienzi's  power  decay, 
his  pride,  necessarily  humbled,  might  drive  him  to 
seek  the  assistance,  and  submit  to  the  proposals,  of 
Montreal.  The  ambition  of  the  Provengal,  though 
vast  and  daring,  was  not  of  a  consistent  and  perse- 
vering nature.  Action  and  enterprise  were  dearer  to 
him,  as  yet,  than  the  rewards  which  they  proffered; 
and  if  baffled  in  one  quarter,  he  turned  himself,  with 
the  true  spirit  of  the  knight-errant,  to  any  other  field 
for  his  achievements.  Louis,  king  of  Hungary,  stern, 
warlike,  implacable,  seeking  vengeance  for  the  murder 
of  his  brother,  the  ill-fated  husband  of  Joanna,  (the 
beautiful  and  guilty  Queen  of  Naples — the  Mary 
Stuart  of  Italy,)  had  already  prepared  himself  to  sub- 
ject the  garden  of  Campania  to  the  Hungarian  yoke. 
Already  his  bastard  brother  had  entered  Italy — already 
some  of  the  Neapolitan  states  had  declared  in  his 
favour — already  promises  had  been  held  out  by  the 
northern  monarch  to  the  scattered  Companies — and 
already  those  fierce  mercenaries  gathered  menacingly 
round  the  frontiers  of  that  Eden  of  Italy,  attracted, 
as  vultures  to  the  carcass,  by  the  preparation  of  war 
and  the  hope  of  plunder.  Such  was  the  field  to  which 
the  bold  mind  of  Montreal  now  turned  its  thoughts; 
and  his  soldiers  had  joyfully  conjectured  his  design 
when  they  had  heard  him  fix  Terracina  as  their  bourne. 
Provident  of  every  resource,  and  refining  his  auda- 


198  RIENZI 

cious  and  unprincipled  valour  by  a  sagacity  which 
promised,  when  years  had  more  matured  and  sobered 
his  restless  chivalry,  to  rank  him  among  the  most 
dangerous  enemies  Italy  had  ever  known,  on  the  first 
sign  of  Louis's  warlike  intentions,  Montreal  had 
seized  and  fortified  a  strong  castle  on  that  delicious 
coast  beyond  Terracina,  by  which  lies  the  celebrated 
pass  once  held  by  Fabius  against  Hannibal,  and  which 
Nature  has  so  favoured  for  war  as  for  peace,  that  a 
handful  of  armed  men  might  stop  the  march  of  an 
army.  The  possession  of  such  a  fortress  on  the  very 
frontiers  of  Naples,  gave  Montreal  an  importance  of 
which  he  trusted  to  avail  himself  with  the  Hungarian 
king :  and  now,  thwarted  in  his  more  grand  and  aspir- 
ing projects  upon  Rome,  his  sanguine,  active,  and 
elastic  spirit  congratulated  itself  upon  the  resource  it 
had  secured. 

The  band  halted  at  nightfall  on  this  side  the  Pontine 
Marshes,  seizing  without  scruple  some  huts  and  sheds, 
from  which  they  ejected  the  miserable  tenants,  and 
slaughtering  with  no  greater  ceremony  the  swine,  cat- 
tle, and  poultry  of  a  neighbouring  farm.  Shortly  after 
sunrise  they  crossed  those  fatal  swamps  which  had 
already  been  partially  drained  by  Boniface  VIII.;  and 
Montreal,  refreshed  by  sleep,  reconciled  to  his  late 
mortification  by  the  advantages  opened  to  him  in  the 
approaching  war  with  Naples,  and  rejoicing  as  he 
approached  a  home  which  held  one  who  alone  divided 
his  heart  with  ambition,  had  resumed  all  the  gaiety 
which  belonged  to  his  Gallic  birth  and  his  reckless 
habits.  And  that  deadly  but  consecrated  road,  where 
yet  may  be  seen  the  labours  of  Augustus,  in  the  canal 
which  had  witnessed  the  Voyage  so  humorously  de- 
scribed by  Horace,  echoed  with  the  loud  laughter 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES        199 

and  frequent  snatches  of  wild  song  by  which  the  bar- 
barian robbers  enlivened  their  rapid  march. 

It  was  noon  when  the  company  entered  upon  that 
romantic  pass  I  have  before  referred  to — the  ancient 
Lantulse.  High  to  the  left  rose  steep  and  lofty  rocks, 
then  covered  by  the  prodigal  verdure,  and  the  count- 
less flowers,  of  the  closing  May ;  while  to  the  right  the 
sea,  gentle  as  a  lake,  and  blue  as  heaven,  rippled 
musically  at  their  feet.  Montreal,  who  largely  pos- 
sessed the  poetry  of  his  land,  which  is  so  eminently 
allied  with  a  love  of  nature,  might  at  another  time  have 
enjoyed  the  beauty  of  the  scene;  but  at  that  moment 
less  external  and  more  household  images  were  busy 
within  him. 

Abruptly  ascending  where  a  winding  path  up  the 
mountain  offered  a  rough  and  painful  road  to  their 
horses'  feet,  the  band  at  length  arrived  before  a  strong 
fortress  of  gray  stone,  whose  towers  were  concealed 
by  the  lofty  foliage,  until  they  emerged  sullenly  and 
suddenly  from  the  laughing  verdure.  The  sound  of 
the  bugle,  the  pennon  of  the  knight,  the  rapid  watch- 
word, produced  a  loud  shout  of  welcome  from  a  score 
or  two  of  grim  soldiery  on  the  walls ;  the  portcullis 
was  raised,  and  Montreal,  throwing  himself  hastily 
from  his  panting  steed,  sprung  across  the  threshold 
of  a  jutting  porch,  and  traversed  a  huge  hall,  when  a 
lady — young,  fair,  and  richly  dressed — met  him  with 
a  step  equally  swift,  and  fell  breathless  and  over- 
joyed into  his  arms. 

"  My  Walter !  my  dear,  dear  Walter ;  welcome — ten 
thousand  welcomes !  " 

"  Adeline,  my  beautiful — my  adored — I  see  thee 
again ! " 

Such  were  the  greetings  interchanged  as  Montreal 


200  RIENZI 

pressed  his  lady  to  his  heart,  kissing  away  her  tears, 
and  lifting  her  face  to  his,  while  he  gazed  on  its  deli- 
cate bloom  with  all  the  wistful  anxiety  of  affection 
after  absence. 

"  Fairest,"  said  he,  tenderly,  "  thou  hast  pined,  thou 
hast  lost  roundness  and  colour  since  we  parted. 
Come,  come,  thou  art  too  gentle,  or  too  foolish,  for  a 
soldier's  love." 

"  Ah,  Walter !  "  replied  Adeline,  clinging  to  him, 
"  now  thou  art  returned,  and  I  shall  be  well.  Thou 
wilt  not  leave  me  again  a  long,  long  time." 

"  Sweet  one,  no ;  "  and  flinging  his  arm  round  her 
waist,  the  lovers — for  alas !  they  were  not  wedded ! — 
retired  to  the  more  private  chambers  of  the  castle. 


CHAPTER    II 

THE    LIFE    OF    LOVE    AND    WAR THE    MESSENGER    OF 

PEACE THE   JOUST 

Girt  with  his  soldiery,  secure  in  his  feudal  hold, 
enchanted  with  the  beauty -of  the  earth,  sky,  and  sea 
around,  and  passionately  adoring  his  Adeline,  Mon- 
treal for  awhile  forgot  all  his  more  stirring  projects 
and  his  ruder  occupations.  His  nature  was  capable 
of  great  tenderness,  as  of  great  ferocity ;  and  his  heart 
smote  him  when  he  looked  at  the  fair  cheek  of  his 
lady,  and  saw  that  even  his  presence  did  not  suffice 
to  bring  back  the  smile  and  the  fresh  hues  of  old. 
Often  he  cursed  that  fatal  oath  of  his  knightly  order 
which  forbade  him  to  wed,  though  with  one  more  than 
his  equal ;  and  remorse  embittered  his  happiest  hours. 
That  gentle  lady  in  that  robber  hold,  severed  from 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES        201 

all  she  had  been  taught  most  to  prize — mother,  friends, 
and  fair  fame — only  loved  her  seducer  the  more  in- 
tensely; only  the  more  concentrated  upon  one  object 
all  the  womanly  and  tender  feelings  denied  every  other 
and  less  sinful  vent.  But  she  felt  her  shame,  though 
she  sought  to  conceal  it,  and  a  yet  more  gnawing  grief 
than  even  that  of  shame  contributed  to  prey  upon  her 
spirits  and  undermine  her  health.  Yet,  withal,  in 
Montreal's  presence  she  was  happy,  even  in  regret; 
and  in  her  declining  health  she  had  at  least  a  consola- 
tion in  the  hope  to  die  while  his  love  was  undimin- 
ished.  Sometimes  they  made  short  excursions,  for 
the  disturbed  state  of  the  country  forbade  them  to 
wander  far  from  the  castle,  through  the  sunny  woods, 
and  along  the  glassy  sea,  which  make  the  charm  of 
that  delicious  scenery ;  and  that  mixture  of  the  savage 
with  the  tender,  the  wild  escort,  the  tent  in  some  green 
glade  in  the  woods  at  noon,  the  lute  and  voice  of 
Adeline,  with  the  fierce  soldiers  grouped  and  listening 
at  the  distance,  might  have  well  suited  the  verse  of 
Ariosto,  and  harmonised  singularly  with  that  strange, 
disordered,  yet  chivalric  time,  in  which  the  Classic 
South  became  the  seat  of  the  Northern  Romance. 
Still,  however,  Montreal  maintained  his  secret  inter- 
course with  the  Hungarian  king,  and,  plunged  in  new 
projects,  willingly  forsook  for  the  present  all  his  de- 
signs on  Rome.  Yet  deemed  he  that  his  more  august 
ambition  was  only  delayed,  and,  bright  in  the  more 
distant  prospects  of  his  adventurous  career,  rose  the 
Capitol  of  Rome  and  shone  the  sceptre  of  the  Caesars. 
One  day,  as  Montreal,  with  a  small  troop  in  attend- 
ance, passed  on  horseback  near  the  walls  of  Terracina, 
the  gates  were  suddenly  thrown  open,  and  a  numerous 
throng  issued  forth,  preceded  by  a  singular  figure, 


202  RIENZI 

whose  steps  they  followed  bareheaded  and  with  loud 
blessings;  a  train  of  monks  closed  the  procession, 
chanting  a  hymn,  of  which  the  concluding  words  were 
as  follows : — 

Beauteous  on  the  mountains — lo, 

The  feet  of  him  glad  tidings  gladly  bringing; 
The  flowers  along  his  pathway  grow, 

And  voices,  heard  aloft,  to  angel  harps  are  singing: 
And  strife  and  slaughter  cease 
Before  thy  blessed  way,  Young  Messenger  of  Peace! 

O'er  the  mount,  and  through  the  moor, 

Glide  thy  holy  steps  secure. 

Day  and  night  no  fear  thou  knowest, 

Lonely — but  with  God  thou  goest. 

Where  the  heathen  rage  the  fiercest, 

Through  the  armed  throng  thou  piercest. 

For  thy  coat  of  mail,  bedight 

In  thy  spotless  robe  of  white. 

For  the  sinful  sword — thy  hand 

Bearing  bright  the  silver  wand: 

Through  the  camp  and  through  the  court, 

Through  the  bandit's  gloomy  fort, 

On  the  mission  of  the  dove, 

Speeds  the  minister  of  love; 

By  a  word  the  wildest  taming, 

And  the  world  to  Christ  reclaiming: 

While,  as  once  the  waters  trod 

By  the  footsteps  of  thy  God, 

War,  and  wrath,  and  rapine  cease, 
Hush'd  round  thy  charmed  path,  O  Messenger  of  Peace! 

The  stranger  to  whom  these  honours  were  paid  was  a 
young,  unbearded  man,  clothed  in  white  wrought  with 
silver ;  he  was  unarmed  and  barefooted :  in  his  hand 
he  held  a  tall  silver  wand.  Montreal  and  his  party 
halted  in  astonishment  and  wonder,  and  the  knight, 
spurring  his  horse  toward  the  crowd,  confronted  the 
stranger. 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES        203 

"  How,  friend,"  quoth  the  Provencal,  "  is  thine  a 
new  order  of  pilgrims,  or  what  especial  holiness  has 
won  thee  this  homage  ?  " 

"  Back,  back,"  cried  some  of  the  bolder  of  the 
crowd,  "  let  not  the  robber  dare  arrest  the  Messenger 
of  Peace." 

Montreal  waved  his  hand  disdainfully. 

"  I  speak  not  to  you,  good  sirs,  and  the  worthy  friars 
in  your  rear  know  full  well  that  I  never  injured  herald 
or  palmer." 

The  monks,  ceasing  from  their  hymn,  advanced 
hastily  to  the  spot ;  and  indeed  the  devotion  of  Mon- 
treal had  ever  induced  him  to  purchase  the  goodwill  of 
whatever  monastery  neighboured  his  wandering  home. 

"  My  son,"  said  the  eldest  of  the  brethren,  "  this  is 
a  strange  spectacle,  and  a  sacred :  and  when  thou 
learnest  all,  thou  wilt  rather  give  the  messenger  a  pass- 
port of  safety  from  the  unthinking  courage  of  thy 
friends  than  intercept  his  path  of  peace." 

"  Ye  puzzle  still  more  my  simple  brain,"  said  Mon- 
treal, impatiently,  "  let  the  youth  speak  for  himself ; 
I  perceive  that  on  his  mantle  are  the  arms  of  Rome 
blended  with  other  quarterings,  which  are  a  mystery 
to  me, — though  sufficiently  versed  in  heraldic  art  as 
befits  a  noble  and  a  knight." 

"  Signer,"  said  the  youth,  gravely,  "  know  in  me 
the  messenger  of  Cola  di  Rienzi,  Tribune  of  Rome, 
charged  with  letters  to  many  a  baron  and  prince  in 
the  ways  between  Rome  and  Naples.  The  arms 
wrought  upon  my  mantle  are  those  of  the  Pontiff,  the 
City,  and  the  Tribune." 

"  Umph ;  thou  must  have  bold  nerves  to  traverse 
the  Campagna  with  no  other  weapon  than  that  stick 
of  silver ! " 


204  RIENZI 

"  Thou  art  mistaken,  Sir  Knight,"  replied  the  youth, 
boldly,  "  and  judgest  of  the  present  by  the  past ;  know 
that  not  a  single  robber  now  lurks  within  the  Cam- 
pagna,  the  arms  of  the  Tribune  have  rendered  every 
road  around  the  city  as  secure  as  the  broadest  street 
of  the  city  itself." 

"  Thou  tellest  me  wonders." 

"  Through  the  forest — and  in  the  fortress, — through 
the  wildest  solitudes, — through  the  most  populous 
towns, — have  my  comrades  borne  this  silver  wand 
unmolested  and  unscathed ;  wherever  we  pass  along, 
thousands  hail  us,  and  tears  of  joy  bless  the  messen- 
gers of  him  who  hath  expelled  the  brigand  from  his 
hold,  the  tyrant  from  his  castle,  and  ensured  the  gains 
of  the  merchant  and  the  hut  of  the  peasant." 

"  Pardieu,"  said  Montreal,  with  a  stern  smile,  "  I 
ought  to  be  thankful  for  the  preference  shown  to  me ; 
I  have  not  yet  received  the  commands,  nor  felt  the 
vengeance,  of  the  Tribune ;  yet,  methinks,  my  humble 
castle  lies  just  within  the  patrimony  of  St.  Peter." 

"  Pardon  me,  Signer  Cavalier,"  said  the  youth;  "  but 
do  I  address  the  renowned  Knight  of  St.  John,  war- 
rior of  the  Cross,  yet  leader  of  banditti  ?  " 

"  Boy,  you  are  bold ;  I  am  Walter  de  Montreal." 

"  I  am  bound,  then,  Sir  Knight,  to  your  castle." 

"  Take  care  how  thou  reach  it  before  me,  or  thou 
standest  a  fair  chance  of  a  quick  exit.  How  now,  my 
friends !  "  seeing  that  the  crowd  at  these  words  gath- 
ered closer  round  the  messenger,  "  Think  ye  that  I, 
who  have  my  mate  in  kings,  would  find  a  victim  in  an 
unarmed  boy  ?  Fie  !  give  way — give  way.  Young 
man,  follow  me  homeward ;  you  are  safe  in  my  castle 
as  in  your  mother's  arms."  So  saying,  Montreal,  with 
great  dignity  and  deliberate  gravity,  rode  slowly 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES        205 

towards  his  castle,  his  soldiers,  wondering,  at  a  little 
distance,  and  the  white-robed  messenger  following 
with  the  crowd,  who  refused  to  depart ;  so  great  was 
their  enthusiasm,  that  they  even  ascended  to  the  gates 
of  the  dreaded  castle,  and  insisted  on  waiting  without 
until  the  return  of  the  youth  assured  them  of  his 
safety. 

Montreal,  who,  however  lawless  elsewhere,  strictly 
preserved  the  rights  of  the  meanest  boor  in  his  imme- 
diate neighbourhood,  and  rather  affected  popularity 
with  the  poor,  bade  the  crowd  enter  the  court-yard, 
ordered  his  servitors  to  provide  them  with  wine  and 
refreshment,  regaled  the  good  monks  in  his  great  hall, 
and  then  led  the  way  to  a  small  room,  where  he  re- 
ceived the  messenger. 

"  This,"  said  the  youth,  "  will  best  explain  my 
mission,"  as  he  placed  a  letter  before  Montreal. 

The  Knight  cut  the  silk  with  his  dagger,  and  read 
the  epistle  with  great  composure. 

"  Your  Tribune,"  said  he,  when  he  had  finished  it, 
"  has  learned  the  laconic  style  of  power  very  soon. 
He  orders  me  to  render  this  castle,  and  vacate  the 
Papal  territory  within  ten  days.  He  is  obliging;  I 
must  have  breathing  time  to  consider  the  proposal ;  be 
seated,  I  pray  you,  young  sir.  Forgive  me,  but  I 
should  have  imagined  that  your  lord  had  enough  upon 
his  hands  with  his  Roman  barons,  to  make  him  a  little 
more  indulgent  to  us  foreign  visitors.  Stephen 
Colonna " 

"  Is  returned  to  Rome,  and  has  taken  the  oath  of 
allegiance ;  the  Savelli,  the  Orsini,  the  Frangipani, 
have  all  subscribed  their  submission  to  the  Buono 
State." 

"  How ! "  cried  Montreal,  in  great  surprise. 


206  RIENZI 

"  Not  only  have  they  returned,  but  they  have  sub- 
mitted to  the  dispersion  of  all  their  mercenaries,  and 
the  dismantling  of  all  their  fortifications.  The  iron  of 
the  Orsini  palace  now  barricades  the  Capitol,  and  the 
stonework  of  the  Colonna  and  the  Savelli  has  added 
new  battlements  to  the  gates  of  the  Lateran  and  St. 
Laurence." 

"  Wonderful  man !  "  said  Montreal,  with  reluctant 
admiration.  "  By  what  means  was  this  effected?" 

"  A  stern  command  and  a  strong  force  to  back  it. 
At  the  first  sound  of  the  great  bell,  twenty  thousand 
Romans  rise  in  arms.  What  to  such  an  army  are  the 
brigands  of  an  Orsini  or  a  Colonna? — Sir  Knight, 
your  valour  and  renown  make  even  Rome  admire 
you ;  and  I,  a  Roman,  bid  you  beware." 

"  Well,  I  thank  thee — thy  news,  friend,  robs  me  of 
breath.  So  the  Barons  submit,  then  ?  " 

"  Yes  :  on  the  first  day,  one  of  the  Colonna,  the  Lord 
Adrian,  took  the  oath ;  within  a  week,  Stephen,  as- 
sured of  safe  conduct,  left  Palestrina,  the  Savelli  in  his 
train ;  the  Orsini  followed — even  Martino  di  Porto  has 
silently  succumbed." 

"  The  Tribune — but  is  that  his  dignity — methought 
he  was  to  be  king " 

"  He  was  offered,  and  he  refused,  the  title.  His 
present  rank,  which  arrogates  no  patrician  honours, 
went  far  to  conciliate  the  nobles." 

"  A  wise  knave  ! — I  beg  pardon,  a  sagacious  prince  ! 
— Well,  then,  the  Tribune  lords  it  mightily,  I  suppose, 
over  the  great  -Roman  names  ?  " 

"  Pardon  me — he  enforces  impartial  justice  from 
peasant  or  patrician  ;  but  he  preserves  to  the  nobles  all 
their  just  privileges  and  legal  rank." 

"  Ha ! — and  the   vain   puppets,   so   they   keep   the 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES        207 

semblance,  scarce  miss  the  substance — I  understand. 
But  this  shows  genius — the  Tribune  is  unwed,  I  think. 
Does  he  look  among  the  Colonna  for  a  wife  ?  " 

"  Sir  Knight,  the  Tribune  is  already  married ;  within 
three  days  after  his  ascension  to  power,  he  won  and 
bore  home  the  daughter  of  the  Baron  di  Raselli." 

"  Raselli !  no  great  name ;  he  might  have  done 
better." 

"  But  it  is  said,"  resumed  the  youth,  smiling,  "  that 
the  Tribune  will  shortly  be  allied  to  the  Colonna, 
through  his  fair  sister  the  Signora  Irene.  The  Baron 
di  Castello  woos  her." 

"  What,  Adrian  Colonna !  Enough !  you  have  con- 
vinced me  that  a  man  who  contents  the  people  and 
awes  or  conciliates  the  nobles  is  born  for  empire. 
My  answer  to  this  letter  I  will  send  myself.  For  your 
news,  Sir  Messenger,  accept  this  jewel,"  and  the 
knight  took  from  his  finger  a  gem  of  some  price. 
"  Nay,  shrink  not,  it  was  as  freely  given  to  me  as  it 
is  now  to  thee." 

The  youth,  who  had  been  agreeably  surprised,  and 
impressed,  by  the  manner  of  the  renowned  freebooter, 
and  who  was  not  a  little  astonished  himself  with  the 
ease  and  familiarity  with  which  he  had  been  relating 
to  Fra  Moreale,  in  his  own  fortress,  the  news  of  Rome, 
bowed  low  as  he  accepted  the  gift. 

The  astute  Provengal,  who  saw  the  evident  impres- 
sion he  had  made,  perceived  also  that  it  might  be  of  ad- 
vantage in  delaying  the  measures  he  might  deem  it  ex- 
pedient to  adopt.  "  Assure  the  Tribune,"  said  he,  on 
dismissing  the  messenger,  "  shouldst  thou  return  ere 
my  letter  arrive,  that  I  admire  his  genius,  hail  his 
power,  and  will  not  fail  to  consider  as  favourably  as  I 
may  of  his  demand." 


208  RIENZI 

"  Better,"  said  the  messenger,  warmly  (he  was  of 
good  blood,  and  gentle  bearing), — "  better  ten  tyrants 
for  our  enemy,  than  one  Montreal." 

"  An  enemy !  believe  me,  sir,  I  seek  no  enmity  with 
princes  who  know  how  to  govern,  or  a  people  that  has 
the  wisdom  at  once  to  rule  and  to  obey." 

The  whole  of  that  day,  however,  Montreal  remained 
thoughtful  and  uneasy ;  he  despatched  trusty  messen- 
gers to  the  Governor  of  Aquila  (who  was  then  in  cor- 
respondence with  Louis  of  Hungary),  to  Naples,  and 
to  Rome : — the  last  charged  with  a  letter  to  the  Trib- 
une, which,  without  absolutely  compromising  himself, 
affected  submission,  and  demanded  only  a  longer 
leisure  for  the  preparations  of  departure.  But,  at  the 
same  time,  fresh  fortifications  were  added  to  the  castle, 
ample  provisions  were  laid  in,  and,  night  and  day, 
spies  and  scouts  were  stationed  along  the  pass,  and  in 
the  town  of  Terracina.  Montreal  was  precisely  the 
chief  who  prepared  most  for  war  when  most  he  pre- 
tended peace. 

One  morning,  the  fifth  from  the  appearance  of  the 
Roman  messenger,  Montreal,  after  narrowly  survey- 
ing his  outworks  and  his  stores,  and  feeling  satisfied 
that  he  could  hold  out  at  least  a  month's  siege,  re- 
paired, with  a  gayer  countenance  than  he  had  lately 
worn,  to  the  chamber  of  Adeline. 

The  lady  was  seated  by  the  casement  of  the  tower, 
from  which  might  be  seen  the  glorious  landscape  of 
woods,  and  vales,  and  orange  groves — a  strange  gar- 
den for  such  a  palace !  As  she  leant  her  face  upon  her 
hand,  with  her  profile  slightly  turned  to  Montreal, 
there  was  something  ineffably  graceful  in  the  bend  of 
her  neck, — the  small  head  so  expressive  of  gentle 
blood, — with  the  locks  parted  in  front  in  that  simple 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES        209 

fashion  which  modern  times  have  so  happily  revived. 
But  the  expression  of  the  half-averted  face,  the  ab- 
stracted intentness  of  the  gaze,  and  the  profound  still- 
ness of  the  attitude,  were  so  sad  and  mournful,  that 
Montreal's  purposed  greeting  of  gallantry  and  glad- 
ness died  upon  his  lips.  He  approached  in  silence, 
and  laid  his  hand  upon  her  shoulder. 

Adeline  turned,  and  taking  the  hand  in  hers,  pressed 
it  to  her  heart,  and  smiled  away  all  her  sadness. 
"  Dearest,"  said  Montreal,  "  couldst  thou  know  how 
much  any  shadow  of  grief  on  thy  bright  face  darkens 
my  heart,  thou  wouldst  never  grieve.  But  no  wonder 
that  in  these  rude  walls — no  female  of  equal  rank  near 
thee,  and  such  mirth  as  Montreal  can  summon  to  his 
halls,  grating  to  thy  ear — no  wonder  that  thou  re- 
pentest  thee  of  thy  choice." 

"  Ah,  no — no,  Walter,  I  never  repent.  I  did  but 
think  of  our  child  as  you  entered.  Alas !  he  was  our 
only  child!  How  fair  he  was,  Walter;  how  he  re- 
sembled thee !  " 

"  Nay,  he  had  thine  eyes  and  brow,"  replied  the 
Knight,  with  a  faltering  voice,  and  turning  away  his 
head. 

"  Walter,"  resumed  the  lady,  sighing,  "  do  you 
remember? — this  is  his  birthday.  He  is  ten  years 
old  to-day.  We  have  loved  each  other  eleven  years, 
and  thou  hast  not  tired  yet  of  thy  poor  Ade- 
line." 

"  As  well  might  the  saints  weary  of  Paradise,"  re- 
plied Montreal,  with  an  enamoured  tenderness,  which 
changed  into  softness  the  whole  character  of  his  heroic 
countenance. 

"  Could  I  think  so,  I  should  indeed  be  blest ! " 
answered  Adeline.  "  But  a  little  while  longer,  and  the 
14 


210  RIENZI 

few  charms  I  yet  possess  must  fade;  and  what  other 
claim  have  I  on  thee  ?  " 

"  All  claim ; — the  memory  of  thy  first  blushes — thy 
first  kiss — of  thy  devoted  sacrifices — of  thy  patient 
wanderings — of  thy  uncomplaining  love!  Ah,  Ade- 
line, we  are  of  Provence,  not  of  Italy ;  and  when  did 
Knight  of  Provence  avoid  his  foe,  or  forsake  his  love  ? 
But  enough,  dearest,  of  home  and  melancholy  for  to- 
day. I  come  to  bid  thee  forth.  I  have  sent  on  the 
servitors  to  pitch  our  tent  beside  the  sea, — we  will 
enjoy  the  orange  blossoms  while  we  may.  Ere  an- 
other week  pass  over  us,  we  may  have  sterner  pastime 
and  closer  confines." 

"  How,  dearest  Walter !  thou  dost  not  apprehend 
danger?" 

"  Thou  speakest,  lady-bird,"  said  Montreal,  laugh- 
ing, "  as  if  danger  were  novelty ;  methinks  by  this 
time,  thou  shouldst  know  it  as  the  atmosphere  we 
breathe." 

"  Ah,  Walter,  is  this  to  last  for  ever  ?  Thou  art  now 
rich  and  renowned ;  canst  thou  not  abandon  this  career 
of  strife?" 

"  Now,  out  on  thee,  Adeline.  What  are  riches  and 
renown  but  the  means  to  power!  And  for  strife,  the 
shield  of  warriors  was  my  cradle — pray  the  saints  it  be 
my  bier!  These  wild  and  wizard  extremes  of  life — 
from  the  bower  to  the  tent — from  the  cavern  to  the 
palace — to-day  a  wandering  exile,  to-morrow  the 
equal  of  kings — make  the  true  element  of  the  chivalry 
of  my  Norman  sires.  Normandy  taught  me  war,  and 
sweet  Provence  love.  Kiss  me,  dear  Adeline ;  and 
now  let  thy  handmaids  attire  thee.  Forget  not  thy 
lute,  sweet  one.  We  will  rouse  the  echoes  with  the 
songs  of  Provence." 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES        211 

The  ductile  temper  of  Adeline  yielded  easily  to  the 
gaiety  of  her  lord ;  and  the  party  soon  sallied  from  the 
castle  towards  the  spot  in  which  Montreal  had  de- 
signed their  resting-place  during  the  heats  of  day. 
But  already  prepared  for  all  surprise,  the  castle  was 
left  strictly  guarded,  and  besides  the  domestic  servi- 
tors of  the  castle,  a  detachment  of  ten  soldiers,  com- 
pletely armed,  accompanied  the  lovers.  Montreal  him- 
self wore  his  corselet,  and  his  'squires  followed  with 
his  helmet  and  lance.  Beyond  the  'narrow  defile  at 
the  base  of  the  castle,  the  road  at  that  day  opened  into 
a  broad  patch  of  verdure,  circled  on  all  sides,  save  that 
open  to  the  sea,  by  wood,  interspersed  with  myrtle  and 
orange,  and  a  wilderness  of  odorous  shrubs.  In  this 
space,  and  sheltered  by  the  broad-spreading  and 
classic  fagus  (so  improperly  translated  into  the 
English  beech),  a  gay  pavilion  was  prepared,  which 
commanded  the  view  of  the  sparkling  sea; — shaded 
from  the  sun,  but  open  to  the  gentle  breeze.  This  was 
poor  Adeline's  favourite  recreation,  if  recreation  it 
might  be  called.  She  rejoiced  to  escape  from  the 
gloomy  walls  of  her  castellated  prison,  and  to  enjoy 
the  sunshine  and  the  sweets  of  that  voluptuous  climate 
without  the  fatigue  which  of  late  all  exercise  occa- 
sioned her.  It  was  a  gallantry  on  the  part  of  Mon- 
treal, who  foresaw  how  short  an  interval  might  elapse 
before  the  troops  of  Rienzi  besieged  his  walls ;  and 
who  was  himself  no  less  at  home  in  the  bower  than  in 
the  field. 

As  they  reclined  within  the  pavilion — the  lover  and 
his  lady, — of  the  attendants  without,  some  lounged 
idly  on  the  beach ;  some  prepared  the  awning  of  a 
pleasure-boat  against  the  decline  of  the  sun ;  some,  in 
a  ruder  tent,  out  of  sight  in  the  wood,  arranged  the 


212  RIENZI 

mid-day  repast ;  while  the  strings  of  the  lute,  touched 
by  Montreal  himself  with  a  careless  skill,  gave  their 
music  to  the  dreamy  stillness  of  the  noon. 

While  thus  employed,  one  of  Montreal's  scouts  ar- 
rived breathless  and  heated  at  the  tent. 

"  Captain,"  said  he,  "  a  company  of  thirty  lances 
completely  armed,  with  a  long  retinue  of  'squires  and 
pages,  have  just  quitted  Terracina.  Their  banners 
bear  the  two-fold  insignia  of  Rome  and  the  Colonna." 

"  Ho !  "  said  Montreal,  gaily,  "  such  a  troop  is  a 
welcome  addition  to  our  company ;  send  our  'squire 
hither." 

The  'squire  appeared. 

"  Hie  thee  on  thy  steed  towards  the  procession  thou 
wilt  meet  with  in  the  pass,  (nay,  sweet  lady  mine,  no 
forbiddal!)  seek  the  chief,  and  say  that  the  good 
Knight  Walter  de  Montreal  sends  him  greeting,  and 
prays  him,  in  passing  our  proper  territory,  to  rest 
awhile  with  us  a  welcome  guest ;  and — stay, — add,  that 
if  to  while  an  hour'  or  so  in  gentle  pastime  be  ac- 
ceptable to  him,  Walter  de  Montreal  would  rejoice  to 
break  a  lance  with  him,  or  any  knight  in  his  train,  in 
honour  of  our  respective  ladies.  Hie  thee  quick !  " 

"  Walter,  Walter,"  began  Adeline,  who  had  that 
keen  and  delicate  sensitiveness  to  her  situation,  which 
her  reckless  lord  often  wantonly  forgot ;  "  Walter,  dear 
Walter,  canst  thou  think  it  honour  to " 

"  Hush  thee,  sweet  Fleur  de  Us!  Thou  hast  not  seen 
pastime  this  many  a  day ;  I  long  to  convince  thee  that 
thou  art  still  the  fairest  lady  in  Italy — ay,  and  of 
Christendom.  But  these  Italians  are  craven  knights, 
and  thou  needst  not  fear  that  my  proffer  will  be  ac-' 
cepted.  But  in  truth,  lady  mine,  I  rejoice  for  graver 
objects,  that  chance  throws  a  Roman  noble,  perhaps 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES        213 

a  Colonna,  in  my  way ; — women  understand  not  these 
matters ;  and  aught  concerning  Rome  touches  us  home 
at  this  moment." 

With  that  the  Knight  frowned,  as  was  his  wont  in 
thought,  and  Adeline  ventured  to  say  no  more,  but 
retired  to  the  interior  division  of  the  pavilion. 

Meanwhile  the  'squire  approached  the  procession 
that  had  now  reached  the  middle  of  the  pass.  And  a 
stately  and  gallant  company  it  was : — if  the  complete 
harness  of  the  soldiery  seemed  to  attest  a  warlike  pur- 
pose, it  was  contradicted  on  the  other  hand  by  a 
numerous  train  of  unarmed  'squires  and  pages  gor- 
geously attired,  while  the  splendid  blazon  of  two  her- 
alds preceding  the  standard-bearers,  proclaimed  their 
object  as  peaceful,  and  their  path  as  sacred.  It  re- 
quired but  a  glance  at  the  company  to  tell  the  leader. 
Arrayed  in  a  breastplate  of  steel,  wrought  profusely 
with  gold  arabesques,  over  which  was  a  mantle  of 
dark-green  velvet,  bordered  with  pearls,  while  above 
his  long  dark  locks  waved  a  black  ostrich  plume  in  a 
high  Macedonian  cap,  such  as,  I  believe,  is  now  worn 
by  the  Grand  Master  of  the  order  of  St.  Constantine, 
rode  in  the  front  of  the  party,  a  young  cavalier,  dis- 
tinguished from  his  immediate  comrades,  partly  by  his 
graceful  presence  and  partly  by  his  splendid  dress. 

The  'squire  approached  respectfully,  and  dismount- 
ing, delivered  himself  of  his  charge. 

The  young  cavalier  smiled,  as  he  answered,  "  Bear 
back  to  Sir  Walter  de  Montreal  the  greeting  of  Adrian 
Colonna,  Baron  di  Castello,  and  say,  the  solemn  object 
of  my  present  journey  will  scarce  permit  me  to  en- 
counter the  formidable  lance  of  so  celebrated  a  knight ; 
and  I  regret  this  the  more,  inasmuch  as  I  may  not  yield 
to  any  dame  the  palm  of  my  liege  lady's  beauty.  I 


214  RIENZI 

must  live  in  hope  of  a  happier  occasion.  For  the  rest, 
I  will  cheerfully  abide  for  some  few  hours  the  guest 
of  so  courteous  a  host." 

The  'squire  bowed  low.  "  My  master,"  said  he, 
hesitatingly,  "  will  grieve  much  to  miss  so  noble  an 
opponent.  But  my  message  refers  to  all 'this  knightly 
and  gallant  train ;  and  if  the  Lord  Adrian  di  Castello 
deems  himself  forbidden  the  joust  by  the  object  of  his 
present  journey,  surely  one  of  his  comrades  will  be 
his  proxy  with  my  master." 

Out  and  quickly  spoke  a  young  noble  by  the  side 
of  Adrian,  Riccardo  Annibaldi,  who  afterwards  did 
good  service  both  to  the  Tribune  and  to  Rome,  and 
whose  valour  brought  him,  in  later  life,  to  an  untimely 
end. 

"  By  the  Lord  Adrian's  permission,"  cried  he,  "  I 
will  break  a  lance  with " 

"  Hush !  Annibaldi,"  interrupted  Adrian.  "  And 
you,  Sir  'Squire,  know,  that  Adrian  di  Castello  per- 
mits no  proxy  in  arms.  Avise  the  Knight  of  St.  John 
that  we  accept  his  hospitality,  and  if,  after  some  con- 
verse on  graver  matters,  he  should  still  desire  so  light 
an  entertainment,  I  will  forget  that  I  am  the  ambassa- 
dor to  Naples,  and  remember  only  that  I  am  a  Knight 
of  the  Empire.  You  have  your  answer." 

The  'squire  with  much  ceremony  made  his  obei- 
sance, remounted  his  steed,  and  returned  in  a  half- 
gallop  to  his  master. 

"  Forgive  me,  dear  Annibaldi,"  said  Adrian,  "  that 
I  balked  your  valour;  and  believe  me  that  I  never 
more  longed  to  break  a  lance  against  any  man  than 
I  do  against  this  boasting  Frenchman.  But  bethink 
you,  that  though  to  us,  brought  up  in  the  dainty  laws 
of  chivalry,  Walter  de  Montreal  is  the  famous  Knight 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES        215 

of  Provence,  to  the  Tribune  of  Rome,  whose  grave 
mission  we  now  fulfil,  he  is  but  the  mercenary  captain 
of  a  Free  Company.  Grievously  in  his  eyes  should 
we  sully  our  dignity  by  so  wanton  and  irrelevant  a 
holiday  conflict  with  a  declared  and  professional 
brigand." 

"  For  all  that,"  said  Annibaldi,  "  the  brigand  ought 
not  to  boast  that  a  Roman  knight  shunned  a  Provencal 
lance." 

"  Cease,  I  pray  thee !  "  said  Adrian,  impatiently.  In 
fact,  the  young  Colonna,  already  chafed  bitterly  against 
his  discreet  and  dignified  rejection  of  Montreal's  prof- 
fer, and  recollecting  with  much  pique  the  disparaging 
manner  in  which  the  Provencal  had  spoken  of  the 
Roman  chivalry,  as  well  as  a  certain  tone  of  supe- 
riority, which  in  all  warlike  matters  Montreal  had  as- 
sumed over  him, — he  now  felt  his  cheek  burn,  and 
his  lip  quiver.  Highly  skilled  in  the  martial  accom- 
plishments of  his  time,  he  had  a  natural  and  excusable 
desire  to  prove  that  he  was  at 'least  no  unworthy  an- 
tagonist even  of  the  best  lance  in  Italy :  and,  added  to 
this,  the  gallantry  of  the  age  made  him  feel  it  a  sort 
of  treason  to  his  mistress  to  forego  any  means  of  assert- 
ing her  perfections. 

It  was,  therefore,  with  considerable  irritation  that 
Adrian,  as  the  pavilion  of  Montreal  became  visible, 
perceived  the  'squire  returning  to  him.  And  the 
reader  will  judge  how  much  this  was  increased  when 
the  latter,  once  more  dismounting,  accosted  him  thus : 

"  My  master,  the  Knight  of  St.  John,  on  hearing 
the  courteous  answer  of  the  Lord  Adrian  di  Castello, 
bids  me  say,  that  lest  the  graver  converse  the  Lord 
Adrian  refers  to  should  mar  gentle  and  friendly  sport, 
he  ventures  respectfully  to  suggest,  that  the  tilt  should 


216  RIENZI 

preface  the  converse.  The  sod  before  the  tent  is  so 
soft  and  smooth,  that  even  a  fall  could  be  attended  with 
no  danger  to  knight  or  steed." 

"  By  our  Lady !  "  cried  Adrian  and  Annibaldi  in  a 
breath,  "  but  thy  last  words  are  discourteous ;  and  " 
(proceeded  Adrian,  recovering  himself)  "  since  thy 
master  will  have  it  so,  let  him  look  to  his  horse's  girths. 
I  will  not  gainsay  his  fancy." 

Montreal,  who  had  thus  insisted  upon  the  exhibi- 
tion, partly,  it  may  be,  from  the  gay  and  ruffling 
bravado,  common  still  amongst  his  brave  countrymen ; 
partly  because  he  was  curious  of  exhibiting  before 
those  who  might  soon  be  his  open  foes  his  singular 
and  unrivalled  address  in  arms,  was  yet  more  moved 
to  it  on  learning  the  name  of  the  leader  of  the  Roman 
Company;  for  his  vain  and  haughty  spirit,  however  it 
had  disguised  resentment  at  the  time,  had  by  no  means 
forgiven  certain  warm  expressions  of  Adrian  in  the 
palace  of  Stephen  Colonna,  and  in  the  unfortunate 
journey  to  Corneto.  While  Adrian,  halting  at  the  en- 
trance of  the  defile,  aided  by  his  'squires,  indignantly, 
but  carefully,  indued  the  rest  of  his  armour,  and  saw, 
himself,  to  the  girths,  stirrup-leathers,  and  various 
buckles  in  the  caparison  of  his  noble  charger,  Mon- 
treal in  great  glee  kissed  his  lady,  who,  though  too  soft 
to  be  angry,  was  deeply  vexed,  (and  yet  her  vexation 
half  forgotten  in  fear  for  his  safety,)  snatched  up  her 
scarf  of  blue,  which  he  threw  over  his  breastplate,  and 
completed  his  array  with  the  indifference  of  a  man 
certain  of  victory.  He  was  destined,  however,  to  one 
disadvantage,  and  that  the  greatest;  his  armour  and 
lance  had  been  brought  from  the  castle — not  his  war- 
horse.  His  palfrey  was  too  slight  to  bear  the  great 
weight  of  his  armour,  nor  amongst  his  troop  was  there 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES        217 

one  horse  that  for  power  and  bone  could  match  with 
Adrian's.  He  chose,  however,  the  strongest  that  was 
at  hand,  and  a  loud  shout  from  his  wild  followers  tes- 
tified their  admiration  when  he  sprung  unaided  from 
the  ground  into  the  saddle — a  rare  and  difficult  feat 
of  agility  in  a  man  completely  arrayed  in  the  pon- 
derous armour  which  issued  at  that  day  from  the 
forges  of  Milan,  and  was  worn  far  more  weighty  in 
Italy  than  any  other  part  of  Europe.  While  both 
companies  grouped  slowly,  and  mingled  in  a  kind  of 
circle  round  the  green  turf,  and  the  Roman  heralds, 
with  bustling  importance,  attempted  to  marshal  the 
spectators  into  order,  Montreal  rode  his  charger  round 
the  sward,  forcing  it  into  various  caracoles,  and  exhib- 
iting, with  the  vanity  that  belonged  to  him,  his  ex- 
quisite and  practised  horsemanship. 

At  length,  Adrian,  his  visor  down,  rode  slowly  into 
the  green  space,  amidst  the  cheers  of  his  party.  The 
two  Knights,  at  either  end,  gravely  fronted  each  other ; 
they  made  the  courtesies  with  their  lances,  which,  in 
friendly  and  sportive  encounters,  were  customary; 
and,  as  they  thus  paused  for  the  signal  of  encounter, 
the  Italians  trembled  for  the  honour  of  their  chief: 
Montreal's  stately  height  and  girth  of  chest  forming 
a  strong  contrast,  even  in  armour,  to  the  form  of  his 
opponent,  which  was  rather  under  the  middle  standard, 
and  though  firmly  knit,  slightly  and  slenderly  built. 
But  to  that  perfection  was  skill  in  arms  brought  in 
those  times,  that  great  strength  and  size  were  far  from 
being  either  the  absolute  requisites,  or  even  the  usual 
attributes,  of  the  more  celebrated  knights ;  in  fact,  so 
much  was  effected  by  the  power  and  the  management 
of  the  steed,  that  a  light  weight  in  the  rider  was  often 
rather  to  his  advantage  than  his  prejudice :  and,  even 


218  RIENZI 

at  a  later  period,  the  most  accomplished  victors  in  the 
tourney,  the  French  Bayard  and  the  English  Sydney, 
were  far  from  remarkable  either  for  bulk  or  stature. 

Whatever  the  superiority  of  Montreal  in  physical 
power,  was,  in  much,  counterbalanced  by  the  in- 
feriority of  his  horse,  which,  though  a  thick-built  and 
strong  Calabrian,  had  neither  the  blood,  bone,  nor 
practised  discipline  of  the  northern  charger  of  the 
Roman.  The  shining  coat  of  the  latter,  coal  black, 
was  set  off  by  a  scarlet  cloth  wrought  in  gold ;  the 
neck  and  shoulders  were  clad  in  scales  of  mail;  and 
from  the  forehead  projected  a  long  point,  like  the  horn 
of  an  unicorn,  while  on  its  crest  waved  a  tall  plume  of 
scarlet  and  white  feathers.  As  the  mission  of  Adrian 
to  Naples  was  that  of  pomp  and  ceremony  to  a  court 
of  great  splendour,  so  his  array  and  retinue  were 
befitting  the  occasion  and  the  passion  for  show  that 
belonged  to  the  time :  and  the  very  bridle  of  his  horse, 
which  was  three  inches  broad,  was  decorated  with 
gold,  and  even  jewels.  The  Knight  himself  was  clad 
in  mail,  which  had  tested  the  finest  art  of  the  cele- 
brated Ludovico  of  Milan  ;  and,  altogether,  his  appear- 
ance was  unusually  gallant  and  splendid,  and  seemed 
still  more  so  beside  the  plain  but  brightly  polished  and 
artfully  flexile  armour  of  Montreal,  (adorned  only  with 
his  lady's  scarf,)  and  the  common  and  rude  mail  of 
his  charger.  This  contrast,  however,  was  not  wel- 
come to  the  Provencal,  whose  vanity  was  especially 
indulged  in  warlike  equipments ;  and  who,  had  he 
foreseen  the  "  pastime  "  that  awaited  him,  would  have 
outshone  even  the  Colonna. 

The  trumpeters  of  either  party  gave  a  short  blast — 
the  Knights  remained  erect  as  statues  of  iron ;  a 
second,  and  each  slightly  bent  over  his  saddle-bow; 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES        219 

a  third,  and  with  spears  couched,  and  slackened  reins, 
and  at  full  speed,  on  they  rushed,  and  fiercely  they  met 
midway.  With  the  reckless  arrogance  which  belonged 
to  him,  Montreal  had  imagined,  that  at  the  first  touch 
of  his  lance  Adrian  would  have  been  unho'rsed ;  but  to 
his  great  surprise  the  young  Roman  remained  firm, 
and  amidst  the  shouts  of  his  party,  passed  on  to  the 
other  end  of  the  lists.  Montreal  himself  was  rudely 
shaken,  but  lost  neither  seat  nor  stirrup. 

"  This  can  be  no  carpet  knight,"  muttered  Montreal 
between  his  teeth,  as,  this  time,  he  summoned  all  his 
skill  for  a  second  encounter;  while  Adrian,  aware  of 
the  great  superiority  of  his  charger,  resolved  to  bring 
it  to  bear  against  his  opponent.  Accordingly,  when 
the  Knights  again  rushed  forward,  Adrian,  covering 
himself  well  with  his  buckler,  directed  his  care  less 
against  the  combatant,  whom  he  felt  no  lance  wielded 
by  mortal  hand  was  likely  to  dislodge,  than  against  the 
less  noble  animal  he  bestrode.  The  shock  of  Mon- 
treal's charge  was  like  an  avalanche — his  lance  shiv- 
ered into  a  thousand  pieces.  Adrian  lost  both  stir- 
rups, and  but  for  the  strong  iron  bows  which  guarded 
the  saddle  in  front  and  rear,  would  have  been  fairly 
unhorsed;  as  it  was,  he  was  almost  doubled  back  by 
the  encounter,  and  his  ears  rung  and  his  eyes  reeled, 
so  that  for  a  moment  or  two  he  almost  lost  all  con- 
sciousness. But  his  steed  had  well  repaid  its  nurture 
and  discipline.  Just  as  the  combatants  closed,  the 
animal,  rearing  on  high,  pressed  forward  with  its 
mighty  crest  against  its  opponent  with  a  force  so  irre- 
sistible as  to  drive  back  Montreal's  horse  several 
paces :  while  Adrian's  lance,  poised  with  exquisite 
skill,  striking  against  the  Provencal's  helmet,  some- 
what rudely  diverted  the  Knight's  attention  for  the 


220  RIENZI 

moment  from  his  rein.  Montreal,  drawing  the  curb 
too  tightly  in  the  suddenness  of  his  recovery,  the  horse 
reared  on  end ;  and,  receiving  at  that  instant,  full  upon 
his  breastplate,  the  sharp  horn  and  mailed  crest  of 
Adrian's  charger — fell  back  over  its  rider  upon  the 
sward.  Montreal  disencumbered  himself  in  great  rage 
and  shame,  as  a  faint  cry  from  his  pavilion  reached  his 
ear,  and  redoubled  his  mortification.  He  rose  with  a 
lightness  which  astonished  the  beholders ;  for  so  heavy 
was  the  armour  worn  at  that  day,  that  few  knights 
once  stretched  upon  the  ground  could  rise  without  as- 
sistance ;  and  drawing  his  sword,  cried  out  fiercely — 
"  On  foot,  on  foot ! — the  fall  was  not  mine,  but  this 
accursed  beast's,  that  I  must  needs  for  my  sins  raise 
to  the  rank  of  a  charger.  Come  on " 

"  Nay,  Sir  Knight,"  said  Adrian,  drawing  off  his 
gauntlets  and  unbuckling  his  helmet,  which  he  threw 
on  the  ground.  "  I  come  to  thee  a  guest  and  a  friend ; 
but  to  fight  on  foot  is  the  encounter  of  mortal  foes. 
Did  I  accept  thy  offer,  my  defeat  would  but  stain  thy 
knighthood." 

Montreal,  whose  passion  had  beguiled  him  for  the 
moment,  sullenly  acquiesced  in  this  reasoning.  Adrian 
hastened  to  soothe  his  antagonist.  "  For  the  rest," 
said  he,  "  I  cannot  pretend  to  the  prize.  Your  lance 
lost  me  my  stirrups — mine  left  you  unshaken.  You 
say  right !  the  defeat,  if  any,  was  that  of  your  steed." 

"  We  may  meet  again  when  I  am  more  equally 
horsed,"  said  Montreal,  still  chafing. 

"  Now,  our  Lady  forbid ! "  exclaimed  Adrian,  with 
so  devout  an  earnestness  that  the  bystanders  could  not 
refrain  from  laughing ;  and  even  Montreal  grimly  and 
half-reluctantly  joined  in  the  merriment.  The  cour- 
tesy of  his  foe,  however,  conciliated  and  touched  the 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES        221 

more  frank  and  soldierly  qualities  of  his  nature,  and 
composing  himself,  he  replied : — 

"  Signor  di  Castello,  I  rest  your  debtor  for  a  cour- 
tesy that  I  have  but  little  imitated.  Howbeit,  if  thou 
wouldst  bind  me  to  thee  for  ever,  thou  wilt  suffer  me 
to  send  for  my  own  charger,  and  afford  me  a  chance 
to  retrieve  mine  honour.  With  that  steed,  or  with  one 
equal  to  thine,  which  seems  to  me  of  the  English 
breed,  I  will  gage  all  I  possess,  lands,  castle,  and  gold, 
sword  and  spurs,  to  maintain  this  pass,  one  by  one, 
against  all  thy  train." 

Fortunately,  perhaps,  for  Adrian,  ere  he  could  reply, 
Riccardo  Annibaldi  cried,  with  great  warmth,  "  Sir 
Knight,  I  have  with  me  two  steeds  well  practised  in 
the  tourney;  take  thy  choice,  and  accept  in  me  a 
champion  of  the  Roman  against  the  French  chivalry ; 
— there  is  my  gage." 

"  Signor,"  replied  Montreal,  with  ill-suppressed  de- 
light, "  thy  proffer  shows  so  gallant  and  free  a  spirit, 
that  it  were  foul  sin  in  me  to  balk  it.  I  accept  thy 
gage,  and  whichever  of  thy  steeds  thou  rejectest,  in 
God's  name  bring  it  hither,  and  let  us  waste  no  words 
before  action." 

Adrian,  who  felt  that  hitherto  the  Romans  had  been 
more  favoured  by  fortune  than  merit,  vainly  endeav- 
oured to  prevent  this  second  hazard.  But  Annibaldi 
was  greatly  chafed,  and  his  high  rank  rendered  it  im- 
politic in  Adrian  to  offend  him  by  peremptory  prohibi- 
tion ;  the  Colonna  reluctantly,  therefore,  yielded  his  as- 
sent to  the  engagement.  Annibaldi's  steeds  were  led  to 
the  spot,  the  one  a  noble  roan,  the  other  a  bay,  of  some- 
what less  breeding  and  bone,  but  still  of  great  strength 
and  price.  Montreal  finding  the  choice  pressed  upon 
him,  gallantly  selected  the  latter  and  less  excellent. 


222  RIENZI 

Annibaldi  was  soon  arrayed  for  the  encounter,  and 
Adrian  gave  the  word  to  the  trumpeters.  The  Ro- 
man was  of  a  stature  almost  equal  to  that  of  Montreal, 
and  though  some  years  younger,  seemed,  in  his 
armour,  nearly  of  the  same  thews  and  girth,  so  that  the 
present  antagonists  appeared  at  the  first  glance  more 
evenly  matched  than  the  last.  But  this  time  Mon- 
treal, well  horsed,  inspired  to  the  utmost  by  shame 
and  pride,  felt  himself  a  match  for  an  army;  and  he 
met  the  young  Baron  with  such  prowess,  that  while 
the  very  plume  on  his  casque  seemed  scarcely  stirred, 
the  Italian  was  thrown  several  paces  from  his  steed, 
and  it  was  not  till  some  moments  after  his  visor  was 
removed  by  his  'squires  that  he  recovered  his  senses. 
This  event  restored  Montreal  to  all  his  natural  gaiety 
of  humour,  and  effectually  raised  the  spirits  of  his  fol- 
lowers, who  had  felt  much  humbled  by  the  previous 
encounter. 

He  himself  assisted  Annibaldi  to  rise  with  great 
courtesy,  and  a  profusion  of  compliments,  which  the 
proud  Roman  took  in  stern  silence,  and  then  led  the 
way  to  the  pavilion,  loudly  ordering  the  banquet  to 
be  spread.  Annibaldi,  however,  loitered  behind,  and 
Adrian,  who  penetrated  his  thoughts,  and  who  saw 
that  over  their  cups  a  quarrel  between  the  Provencal 
and  his  friend  was  likely  to  ensue,  drawing  him  aside, 
said : — "  Methinks,  dear  Annibaldi,  it  would  be  bet- 
ter, if  you,  with  the  chief  of  our  following,  were  to 
proceed  onward  to  Fondi,  where  I  will  join  you  at 
sunset.  My  'squires,  and  some  eight  lances,  will  suf- 
fice for  my  safeguard  here ;  and,  to  say  truth,  I  de- 
sire a  few  private  words  with  our  strange  host,  in 
the  hope  that  he  may  be  peaceably  induced  to  with- 
draw from  hence  without  the  help  of  our  Roman 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES        223 

troops,   who    have    enough    elsewhere    to    feed    their 
valour." 

Annibaldi  pressed  his  companion's  hand :  "  I  under- 
stand thee,"  he  replied  with  a  slight  blush,  "  and,  in- 
deed, I  could  but  ill  brook  the  complacent  triumph  of 
the  barbarian.  I  accept  thy  offer." 


CHAPTER    III 

THE  CONVERSATION  BETWEEN  THE  ROMAN  AND  THE 
PROVENCAL — ADELINE'S  HISTORY — THE  MOONLIT 
SEA — THE  LUTE  AND  THE  SONG 

As  soon  as  Annibaldi,  with  the  greater  part  of  the 
retinue,  was  gone,  Adrian,  divesting  himself  of  his 
heavy  greaves,  entered  alone  the  pavilion  of  the 
Knight  of  St.  John.  Montreal  had  already  doffed  all 
his  armour,  save  the  breastplate,  and  he  now  stepped 
forward  to  welcome  his  guest  with  the  winning  and 
easy  grace  which  better  suited  his  birth  than  his  pro- 
fession. He  received  Adrian's  excuses  for  the  absence 
of  Annibaldi  and  the  other  knights  of  his  train  with  a 
smile  which  seemed  to  prove  how  readily  he  divined 
the  cause,  and  conducted  him  to  the  other  and  more 
private  division  of  the  pavilion  in  which  the  repast 
(rendered  acceptable  by  the  late  exercise  of  guest  and 
host)  was  prepared ;  and  here  Adrian  for  the  first  time 
discovered  Adeline.  Long  inurement  to  the  various 
and  roving  life  of  her  lover,  joined  to  a  certain  pride 
which  she  derived  from  conscious,  though  forfeited, 
rank,  gave  to  the  outward  manner  of  that  beautiful 
lady  an  ease  and  freedom  which  often  concealed,  even 


224  RIENZI 

from  Montreal,  her  sensitiveness  to  her  unhappy  situa- 
tion. At  times,  indeed,  when  alone  with  Montreal, 
whom  she  loved  with  all  the  devotion  of  romance,  she 
was  sensible  only  to  the  charm  of  a  presence  which 
consoled  her  for  all  things ;  but  in  his  frequent  absence, 
or  on  the  admission  of  any  stranger,  the  illusion  van- 
ished— the  reality  returned.  Poor  lady !  Nature  had 
not  formed,  education  had  not  reared,  habit  had  not 
reconciled,  her  to  the  breath  of  shame ! 

The  young  Colonna  was  much  struck  by  her  beauty, 
and  more  by  her  gentle  and  high-born  grace.  Like 
her  lord  she  appeared  younger  than  she  was ;  time 
seemed  to  spare  a  bloom  which  an  experienced  eye 
might  have  told  was  destined  to  an  early  grave;  and 
there  was  something  almost  girlish  in  the  lightness 
of  her  form — the  braided  luxuriance  of  her  rich  auburn 
hair,  and  the  colour  that  went  and  came,  not  only 
with  every  movement,  but  almost  with  every  word. 
The  contrast  between  her  and  Montreal  became  them 
both — it  was  the  contrast  of  devoted  reliance  and  pro- 
tecting strength :  each  looked  fairer  in  the  presence  of 
the  other;  and  as  Adrian  sate  down  to  the  well-laden 
board,  he  thought  he  had  never  seen  a  pair  more 
formed  for  the  poetic  legends  of  their  native  Trouba- 
dours. 

Montreal  conversed  gaily  upon  a  thousand  matters 
— pressed  the  wine  flasks — and  selected  for  his  guest 
the  most  delicate  portions  of  the  delicious  spicola  of  the 
neighbouring  sea,  and  the  rich  flesh  of  the  wild  boar 
of  the  Pontine  Marshes. 

"  Tell  me,"  said  Montreal,  as  their  hunger  was  now 
appeased — "  tell  me,  noble  Adrian,  how  fares  your 
kinsman,  Signer  Stephen?  A  brave  old  man  for  his 
years." 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES        225 

"  He  bears  him  as  the  youngest  of  us,"  answered 
Adrian. 

"  Late  events  must  have  shocked  him  a  little,"  said 
Montreal,  with  an  arch  smile.  "  Ah,  you  look  grave 
— yet  commend  my  foresight; — I  was  the  first  who 
prophesied  to  thy  kinsman  the  rise  of  Cola  di  Rienzi ; 
he  seems  a  great  man — never  more  great  than. in  con- 
ciliating the  Colonna  and  the  Orsini." 

"  The  Tribune,"  returned  Adrian,  evasively,  "  is  cer- 
tainly a  man  of  extraordinary  genius.  And  now,  see- 
ing him  command,  my  only  wonder  is  how  he  ever 
brooked  to  obey — majesty  seems  a  very  part  of  him." 

"  Men  who  win  power,  easily  put  on  its  harness, 
dignity,"  answered  Montreal ;  "  and  if  I  hear  aright — 
(pledge  me  to  your  lady's  health) — the  Tribune,  if  not 
himself  nobly  born,  will  soon  be  nobly  connected." 

"  He  is  already  married  to  a  Raselli,  an  old  Roman 
house,"  replied  Adrian. 

"  You  evade  my  pursuit, — Le  doulx  soupir!  le  doulx 
soupir!  as  the  old  Cabestan  has  it " — said  Montreal, 
laughing.  "  Well,  you  have  pledged  me  one  cup  to 
your  lady,  pledge  another  to  the  fair  Irene,  the  Trib- 
une's sister — always  provided  they  two  are  not  one. — 
You  smile  and  shake  your  head." 

"  I  do  not  disguise  from  you,  Sir  Knight,"  answered 
Adrian,  "  that  when  my  present  embassy  is  over,  I 
trust  the  alliance  between  the  Tribune  and  a  Colonna 
will  go  far  towards  the  benefit  of  both." 

"  I  have  heard  rightly,  then,"  said  Montreal,  in  a 
grave  and  thoughtful  tone.  "  Rienzi's  power  must, 
indeed,  be  great." 

"  Of  that  my  mission  is  a  proof.  Are  you  aware, 
Signer  de  Montreal,  that  Louis,  King  of  Hun- 
gary  " 

15 


226  RIENZI 

"How!  what  of  him?" 

"  Has  referred  the  decision  of  the  feud  between  him- 
self and  Joanna  of  Naples,  respecting  the  death  of  her 
royal  spouse,  his  brother,  to  the  fiat  of  the  Tribune? 
This  is  the  first  time,  methinks,  since  the  death  of  Con- 
stantine,  that  so  great  a  confidence  and  so  high  a 
charge  were  ever  intrusted  to  a  Roman ! " 

"  By  all  the  saints  in  the  calendar,"  cried  Montreal, 
crossing  himself,  "  this  news  is  indeed  amazing!  The 
fierce  Louis  of  Hungary  waive  the  right  of  the  sword, 
and  choose  other  umpire  than  the  field  of  battle !  " 

"  And  this,"  continued  Adrian,  in  a  significant  tone, 
"  this  it  was  which  induced  me  to  obey  your  courteous 
summons.  I  know,  brave  Montreal,  that  you  hold  in- 
tercourse with  Louis.  Louis  has  given  to  the  Tribune 
the  best  pledge  of  his  amity  and  alliance ;  will  you  do 
wisely  if  you " 

"  Wage  war  with  the  Hungarian's  ally,"  interrupted 
Montreal.  "  This  you  were  about  to  add ;  the  same 
thought  crossed  myself.  My  Lord,  pardon  me — 
Italians  sometimes  invent  what  they  wish.  On  the 
honour  of  a  Knight  of  the  Empire,  these  tidings  are 
the  naked  truth  ?  " 

"  By  my  honour,  and  on  the  Cross,"  answered 
Adrian,  drawing  himself  up ;  "  and  in  proof  thereof,  I 
am  now  bound  to  Naples  to  settle  with  the  Queen  the 
preliminaries  of  the  appointed  trial." 

"  Two  crowned  heads  before  the  tribunal  of  a  ple- 
beian, and  one  a  defendant  against  the  charge  of 
murther !  "  muttered  Montreal ;  "  the  news  might  well 
amaze  me ! " 

He  remained  musing  and  silent  a  little  while,  till 
looking  up,  he  caught  Adeline's  tender  gaze  fixed 
upon  him  with  that  deep  solicitude  with  which  she 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES        227 

watched  the  outward  effect  of  schemes  and  projects 
she  was  too  soft  to  desire  to  know,  and  too  innocent  to 
share. 

"  Lady  mine,"  said  the  Provengal,  fondly,  "  how 
sayest  thou?  must  we  abandon  our  mountain  castle, 
and  these  wild  woodland  scenes,  for  the  dull  walls  of 
a  city?  I  fear  me  so. — The  Lady  Adeline,"  he  con- 
tinued, turning  to  Adrian,  "  is  of  a  singular  bias ;  she 
hates  the  gay  crowds  of  streets  and  thoroughfares,  and 
esteems  no  palace  like  the  solitary  outlaw's  hold.  Yet, 
methinks,  she  might  outshine  all  the  faces  of  Italy, — 
thy  mistress,  Lord  Adrian,  of  course,  excepted." 

"  It  is  an  exception  which  only  a  lover,  and  that  too 
a  betrothed  lover,  would  dare  to  make,"  replied 
Adrian,  gallantly. 

"  Nay,"  said  Adeline,  in  a  voice  singularly  sweet 
and  clear,  "  nay,  I  know  well  at  what  price  to  value 
my  lord's  flattery,  and  Signer  di  Castello's  courtesy. 
But  you  are  bound,  Sir  Knight,  to  a  court,  that,  if  fame 
speak  true,  boasts  in  its  Queen  the  very  miracle  and 
mould  of  beauty." 

"  It  is  some  years  since  I  saw  the  Queen  of  Naples," 
answered  Adrian ;  "  and  I  little  dreamed  then,  when  I 
gazed  upon  that  angel  face,  that  I  should  live  to  hear 
her  accused  of  the  foulest  murther  that  ever  stained 
even  Italian  royalty." 

"  And,  as  if  resolved  to  prove  her  guilt,"  said 
Montreal,  "  ere  long  be  sure  she  will  marry  the 
very  man  who  did  the  deed.  Of  this  I  have  certain 
proof." 

Thus  conversing,  the  Knights  wore  away  the  day- 
light, and  beheld  from  the  open  tent  the  sun  cast  his 
setting  glow  over  the  purple  sea.  Adeline  had  long 
retired  from  the  board,  and  they  now  saw  her  seated 


228  RIENZI 

with  her  handmaids  on  a  mound  by  the  beach ;  while 
the  sound  of  her  lute  faintly  reached  their  ears.  As 
Montreal  caught  the  air,  he  turned  from  the  converse, 
and  sighing,  half  shaded  his  face  with  his  hand.  Some- 
how or  other  the  two  Knights  had  worn  away  all  the 
little  i  jealousy  or  pique  which  they  had  conceived 
against  each  other  at  Rome.  Both  imbued  with  the 
soldier-like  spirit  of  the  age,  their  contest  in  the  morn- 
ing had  served  to  inspire  them  with  that  strange  kind 
of  respect,  and  even  cordiality,  which  one  brave  man 
even  still  (how  much  more  at  that  day !)  feels  for  an- 
other, whose  courage  he  has  proved  while  vindicating 
his  own.  It  is  like  the  discovery  of  a  congenial  senti- 
ment hitherto  latent;  and,  in  a  life  of  camps,  often 
establishes  sudden  and  lasting  friendship  in  the  very 
lap  of  enmity.  This  feeling  had  been  ripened  by  their 
subsequent  familiar  intercourse,  and  was  increased  on 
Adrian's  side  by  the  feeling,  that  in  convincing  Mon- 
treal of  the  policy  of  withdrawing  from  the  Roman  ter- 
ritories, he  had  obtained  an  advantage  that  well  repaid 
whatever  danger  and  delay  he  had  undergone. 

The  sigh,  and  the  altered  manner  of  Montreal,  did 
not  escape  Adrian,  and  he  naturally  connected  it  with 
something  relating  to  her  whose  music  had  been  its 
evident  cause. 

"  Yon  lovely  dame,"  said  he,  gently,  "  touches  the 
lute  with  an  exquisite  and  fairy  hand,  and  that  plain- 
tive air  seems  to  my  ear  as  of  the  minstrelsy  of  Pro- 
vence." 

"  It  is  the  air  I  taught  her,"  said  Montreal,  sadly, 
"  married  as  it  is  to  indifferent  words,  with  which  I 
first  wooed  a  heart  that  should  never  have  given  itself 
to  me!  Ay,  young  Colonna,  many  a  night  has  my 
boat  been  moored  beneath  the  starlit  Sorgia  that 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES        229 

washes  her  proud  father's  halls,  and  my  voice  awaked 
the  stillness  of  the  waving  sedges  with  a  soldier's  ser- 
enade. Sweet  memories  !  bitter  fruit !  " 

"  Why  bitter  ?  ye  love  each  other  still." 

"  But  I  am  vowed  to  celibacy,  and  Adeline  de  Cour- 
val  is  leman  where  she  should  be  wedded  dame.  Me- 
thinks  I  fret  at  that  thought  even  more  than  she, — 
dear  Adeline !  " 

"  Your  lady,  as  all  would  guess,  is  then  nobly 
born?" 

"  She  is,"  answered  Montreal,  with  a  deep  and  evi- 
dent feeling  which,  save  in  love,  rarely,  if  ever,  crossed 
his  hardy  breast.  "  She  is !  our  tale  is  a  brief  one : — 
we  loved  each  other  as  children :  Her  family  was 
wealthier  than  mine :  We  were  separated.  I  was 
given  to  understand  that  she  abandoned  me.  I  de- 
spaired, and  in  despair  I  took  the  cross  of  St.  John. 
Chance  threw  us  again  together.  I  learned  that  her 
love  was  undecayed.  Poor  child ! — she  was  even  then, 
sir,  but  a  child  !  I,  wild — reckless — and  not  unskilled, 
perhaps,  in  the  arts  that  woo  and  win.  She  could  not 
resist  my  suit  or  her  own  affection ! — We  fled.  In 
those  words  you  see  the  thread  of  my  after  history. 
My  sword  and  my  Adeline  were  all  my  fortune.  So- 
ciety frowned  on  us.  The  Church  threatened  my  soul. 
The  Grand  Master  my  life.  I  became  a  knight  of  for- 
tune. Fate  and  my  right  hand  favoured  me.  I  have 
made  those  who  scorned  me  tremble  at  my  name. 
That  name  shall  yet  blaze,  a  star  or  a  meteor,  in  the 
front  of  troubled  nations,  and  I  may  yet  win  by  force 
from  the  Pontiff  the  dispensation  refused  to  my 
prayers.  On  the  same  day,  I  may  offer  Adeline  the 
diadem  and  the  ring. — Eno'  of  this ; — you  marked 
Adeline's  cheek! — Seems  it  not  delicate?  I  like  not 


230  RIENZI 

that  changeful  flush, — and  she  moves  languidly, — her 
step  that  was  so  blithe !  " 

"  Change  of  scene  and  the  mild  south  will  soon 
restore  her  health,"  said  Adrian ;  "  and  in  your  peculiar 
life  she  is  so  little  brought  in  contact  with  others, 
especially  of  her  own  sex,  that  I  trust  she  is  but  seldom 
made  aware  of  whatever  is  painful  in  her  situation. 
And  woman's  love,  Montreal,  as  we  both  have  learned, 
is  a  robe  that  wraps  her  from  many  a  storm !  " 

"  You  speak  kindly,"  returned  the  Knight ;  "  but 
you  know  not  all  our  cause  of  grief.  Adeline's  father, 
a  proud  sieur,  died, — they  said  of  a  broken  heart, — but 
old  men  die  of  many  another  disease  than  that !  The 
mother,  a  dame  who  boasted  her  descent  from  princes, 
bore  the  matter  more  sternly  than  the  sire ;  clamoured 
for  revenge, — which  was  odd,  for  she  is  as  religious  as 
a  Dominican,  and  revenge  is  not  Christian  in  a  woman, 
though  it  is  knightly  in  a  man ! — Well,  my  Lord,  we 
had  one  boy,  our  only  child ;  he  was  Adeline's  solace 
in  my  absence, — his  pretty  ways  were  worth  the  world 
to  her!  She  loved  him  so,  that,  but  he  had  her  eyes 
and  looked  like  her  when  he  slept,  I  should  have  been 
jealous!  He  grew  up  in  our  wild  life,  strong  and 
comely ;  the  young  rogue,  he  would  have  been  a  brave 
knight!  My  evil  stars  led  me  to  Milan,  where  I  had 
business  with  the  Visconti.  One  bright  morning  in 
June,  our  boy  was  stolen ;  verily  that  June  was  like  a 
December  to  us !  " 

"  Stolen ! — how  ? — by  whom  ?  " 

"  The  first  question  is  answered  easily, — the  boy  was 
with  his  nurse  in  the  court-yard,  the  idle  wench  left  him 
for  but  a  minute  or  two — so  she  avers — to  fetch  him 
some  childish  toy ;  when  she  returned  he  was  gone ; 
not  a  trace  left,  save  his  pretty  cap  with  the  plume  in 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES        231 

it !  Poor  Adeline,  many  a  time  have  I  found  her  kiss- 
ing that  relic  till  it  was  wet  with  tears !  " 

"  A  strange  fortune,  in  truth.  But  what  interest 
could " 

"  I  will  tell  you,"  interrupted  Montreal,  "  the  only 
conjecture  I  could  form ; — Adeline's  mother,  on  learn- 
ing we  had  a  son,  sent  to  Adeline  a  letter,  that  well- 
nigh  broke  her  heart,  reproaching  her  for  her  love  to 
me,  and  so  forth,  as  if  that  had  made  her  the  vilest 
of  the  sex.  She  bade  her  take  compassion  on  her 
child,  and  not  bring  him  up  to  a  robber's  life, — so  was 
she  pleased  to  style  the  bold  career  of  Walter  de  Mon- 
treal. She  offered  to  rear  the  child  in  her  own  dull 
halls,  and  fit  him,  no  doubt,  for  a  shaven  pate  and  a 
monk's  cowl.  She  chafed  much  that  a  mother  would 
not  part  with  her  treasure !  She  alone,  partly  in  re- 
venge, partly  in  silly  compassion  for  Adeline's  child, 
partly,  it  may  be,  from  some  pious  fanaticism,  could, 
it  so  seemed  to  me,  have  robbed  us  of  our  boy.  On 
inquiry,  I  learned  from  the  nurse — who,  but  that  she 
was  of  the  same  sex  as  Adeline,  should  have  tasted 
my  dagger, — that  in  their  walks,  a  woman  of  advanced 
years,  but  seemingly  of  humble  rank,  (that  might  be 
disguise !)  had  often  stopped,  and  caressed  and  ad- 
mired the  child.  I  repaired  at  once  to  France,  sought 
the  old  Castle  of  De  Courval; — it  had  passed  to  the 
next  heir,  and  the  old  widow  was  gone,  none  knew 
whither,  but,  it  was  conjectured,  to  take  the  veil  in 
some  remote  convent." 

"  And  you  never  saw  her  since  ?  " 

"  Yes,  at  Rome,"  answered  Montreal,  turning  pale ; 
"  when  last  there  I  chanced  suddenly  upon  her ;  and 
then  at  length  I  learned  my  boy's  fate,  and  the  truth 
of  my  own  surmise ;  she  confessed  to  the  theft — and 


232  RIENZI 

my  child  was  dead !  I  have  not  dared  to  tell  Adeline 
of  this ;  it  seems  to  me  as  if  it  would  be  like  plucking 
the  shaft  from  the  wounded  side — and  she  would  die 
at  once,  bereft  of  the  uncertainty  that  rankles  within 
her.  She  has  still  a  hope — it  comforts  her;  though 
my  heart  bleeds  when  I  think  on  its  vanity.  Let  this 
pass,  my  Colonna." 

And  Montreal  started  to  his  feet  as  if  he  strove,  by 
a  strong  effort,  to  shake  off  the  weakness  that  had 
crept  over  him  in  his  narration. 

"  Think  no  more  of  it.  Life  is  short — its  thorns  are 
many — let  us  not  neglect  any  of  its  flowers.  This  is 
piety  and  wisdom  too ;  Nature  that  meant  me  to  strug- 
gle and  to  toil,  gave  me,  happily,  the  sanguine  heart 
and  the  elastic  soul  of  France ;  and  I  have  lived  long 
enough  to  own  that  to  die  young  is  not  an  evil.  Come, 
Lord  Adrian,  let  us  join  my  lady  ere  you  part,  if  part 
you  must ;  the  moon  will  be  up  soon,  and  Fondi  is  but 
a  short  journey  hence.  You  know  that  though  I  ad- 
mire not  your  Petrarch,  you  with  more  courtesy  laud 
our  Provengal  ballads,  and  you  must  hear  Adeline 
sing  one  that  you  may  prize  them  the  more.  The  race 
of  the  Troubadours  is  dead,  but  the  minstrelsy  sur- 
vives the  minstrel ! " 

Adrian,  who  scarce  knew  what  comfort  to  admin- 
ister to  the  affliction  of  his  companion,  was  somewhat 
relieved  by  the  change  in  his  mood,  though  his  more 
grave  and  sensitive  nature  was  a  little  startled  at  its 
suddenness.  But,  as  we  have  before  seen,  Montreal's 
spirit  (and  this  made  perhaps  its  fascination)  was  as  a 
varying  and  changeful  sky ;  the  gayest  sunshine,  and 
the  fiercest  storm  swept  over  it  in  rapid  alternation; 
and  elements  of  singular  might  and  grandeur,  which, 
properly  directed  and  concentrated,  would  have  made 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES        233 

him  the  blessing  and  glory  of  his  time,  were  wielded 
with  a  boyish  levity,  roused  into  war  and  desolation, 
or  lulled  into  repose  and  smoothness,  with  all  the  sud- 
denness of  chance,  and  all  the  fickleness  of  caprice. 

Sauntering  down  to  the  beach,  the  music  of  Ade- 
line's lute  sounded  more  distinctly  in  their  ears,  and 
involuntarily  they  hushed  their  steps  upon  the  rich  and 
odorous  turf,  as  in  a  voice,  though  not  powerful,  mar- 
vellously sweet  and  clear,  and  well  adapted  to  the  sim- 
ple fashion  of  the  words  and  melody,  she  sang  the 
following  stanzas : — 

LAY   OF  THE   LADY   OF   PROVENCE 


Ah,  why  art  them  sad,  my  heart?    Why 

Darksome  and  lonely? 
Frowns  the  face  of  the  happy  sky 
Over  thee  only? 

Ah  me,  ah  me! 
Render  to  joy  the  earth! 
Grief  shuns,  not  envies,  Mirth; 
But  leave  one  quiet  spot, 
Where  Mirth  may  enter  not, 
To  sigh,  Ah  me! — 

Ah  me! 


As  a  bird,  though  the  sky  be  clear, 

Feels  the  storm  lower; 
My  soul  bodes  the  tempest  near 
In  the  sunny  hour; 

Ah  me,  ah  me! 
Be  glad  while  yet  we  may! 
I  bid  thee,  my  heart,  be  gay; 
And  still  I  know  not  why, — 
Thou  answerest  with  a  sigh, 
(Fond  heart!)    Ah  me!— 
Ah  me! 


234  RIENZI 

3 
As  this  twilight  o'er  the  skies, 

Doubt  brings  the  sorrow; 
Who  knows  when  the  daylight  dies, 
What  waits  the  morrow? 

Ah  me,  ah  me! 
Be  blithe,  be  blithe,  my  lute, 
Thy  strings  will  soon  be  mute; 
Be  blithe — hark!  while  it  dies, 
The  note  forewarning,  sighs 
Its  last — Ah  me! — 

Ah  me! 

"  My  own  Adeline — my  sweetest  night-bird,"  half- 
whispered  Montreal,  and  softly  approaching,  he  threw 
himself  at  his  lady's  feet — "  thy  song  is  too  sad  for  this 
golden  eve." 

"  No  sound  ever  went  to  the  heart,"  said  Adrian, 
"  whose  arrow  was  not  feathered  by  sadness.  True 
sentiment,  Montreal,  is  twin  with  melancholy,  though 
not  with  gloom." 

The  lady  looked  softly  and  approvingly  up  at 
Adrian's  face ;  she  was  pleased  with  its  expression ;  she 
was  pleased  yet  more  with  words  of  which  women 
rather  than  men  would  acknowledge  the  truth.  Adrian 
returned  the  look  with  one  of  deep  and  eloquent  sym- 
pathy and  respect ;  in  fact,  the  short  story  he  had 
heard  from  Montreal  had  interested  him  deeply  in  her ; 
and  never  to  the  brilliant  queen,  to  whose  court  he 
was  bound,  did  his  manner  wear  so  chivalric  and  ear- 
nest a  homage  as  it  did  to  that  lone  and  ill-fated  lady 
on  the  twilight  shores  of  Terracina. 

Adeline  blushed  slightly  and  sighed ;  and  then,  to 
break  the  awkwardness  of  a  pause  which  had  stolen 
over  them,  as  Montreal,  unheeding  the  last  remark 
of  Adrian,  was  tuning  the  strings  of  the  lute,  she  said — 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES        235 

"  Of  course,  the  Signer  di  Castello  shares  the  uni- 
versal enthusiasm  for  Petrarch  ?  " 

"  Ay,"  cried  Montreal ;  "  my  lady  is  Petrarch  mad, 
like  the  rest  of  them :  but  all  I  know  is,  that  never  did 
belted  knight  and  honest  lover  woo  in  such  fantastic 
and  tortured  strains." 

"  In  Italy,"  answered  Adrian,  "  common  language 
is  exaggeration ; — but  even  your  own  Troubadour 
poetry  might  tell  you  that  love,  ever  seeking  a  new 
language  of  its  own,  cannot  but  often  run  into  what 
to  all  but  lovers  seems  distortion  and  conceit." 

"  Come,  dear  Signer,"  said  Montreal,  placing  the 
lute  in  Adrian's  hands,  "  let  Adeline  be  the  umpire  be- 
tween us,  which  music — yours  or  mine — can  woo  the 
more  blandly." 

"  Ah,"  said  Adrian,  laughing ;  "  I  fear  me,  Sir 
Knight,  you  have  already  bribed  the  umpire." 

Montreal's  eyes  and  Adeline's  met,  and  in  that  gaze 
Adeline  forgot  all  her  sorrows. 

With  a  practised  and  skilful  hand,  Adrian  touched 
the  strings ;  and  selecting  a  song  which  was  less  elab- 
orate than  those  mostly  in  vogue  amongst  his  country- 
men, though  still  conceived  in  the  Italian  spirit,  and 
in  accordance  with  the  sentiment  he  had  previously 
expressed  to  Adeline,  he  sang  as  follows  : — 

LOVE'S  EXCUSE  FOR  SADNESS 

Chide  not,  beloved,  if  oft  with  thee 

I  feel  not  rapture  wholly; 
For  aye  the  heart  that's  fill'd  with  love, 

Runs  o'er  in  melancholy. 
To  streams  that  glide  in  noon,  the  shade 

From  summer  skies  is  given; 
So,  if  my  breast  reflects  the  cloud, 

'Tis  but  the  cloud  of  heaven ! 


236  RIENZI 

Thine  image  glass'd  within  my  soul, 

So  well  the  mirror  keepeth; 
That,  chide  me  not,  if  with  the  light 

The  shadow  also  sleepeth. 

"  And  now,"  said  Adrian,  as  he  concluded,  "  the  lute 
is  to  you  :  I  but  prelude  your  prize." 

The  Provencal  laughed, and  shook  his  head. — "With 
any  other  umpire,  I  had  had  my  lute  broken  on  my 
own  head,  for  my  conceit  in  provoking  such  a  rival ; 
but  I  must  not  shrink  from  a  contest  I  have  myself 
provoked,  even  though  in  one  day  twice  defeated." 
And  with  that,  in  a  deep  and  exquisitely  melodious 
voice,  which  wanted  only  more  scientific  culture  to 
have  challenged  any  competition,  the  Knight  of  St. 
John  poured  forth 

THE   LAY    OF   THE   TROUBADOUR 

i 

Gentle  river,  the  moonbeam  is  hush'd  on  thy  tide, 
On  thy  pathway  of  light  to  my  lady  I  glide. 
My  boat,  where  the  stream  laves  the  castle,  I  moor, — 
All  at  rest  save  the  maid  and  her  young  Troubadour! 
As  the  stars  to  the  waters  that  bore 

My  bark,  to  my  spirit  thou  art; 
Heaving  yet,  see  it  bound  to  the  shore, 
So  moor'd  to  thy  beauty  my  heart, — 
Be?  amie,  bel'  amie,  beV  amie! 

2 

Wilt  thou  fly  from  the  world?     It  hath  wealth  for  the  vain 
But  Love  breaks  his  bond  when  there's  gold  in  the  chain: 
Wilt  thou  fly  from  the  world?    It  hath  courts  for  the  proud; — 
But  Love,  born  in  caves,  pines  to  death  in  the  crowd. 
Were  this  bosom  thy  world,  dearest  one, 
Thy  world  could  not  fail  to  be  bright; 
For  thou  shouldst  thyself  be  its  sun, 
And  what  spot  could  be  dim  in  thy  light — 
BeV  amie,  bel'  amie,  bel'  amie? 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES        237 
3 

The  rich  and  the  great  woo  thee  dearest;  and  poor, 
Though  his  fathers  were  princes,  thy  young  Troubadour! 
But  his  heart  never  quail'd  save  to  thee,  his  adored, — 
There's  no  guile  in  his  lute,  and  no  stain  on  his  sword. 
Ah,  I  reck  not  what  sorrows  I  know, 
Could  I  still  on  thy  solace  confide; 
And  I  care  not,  though  earth  be  my  foe, 
If  thy  soft  heart  be  found  by  my  side, — 
Bel'  amie,  bel'  amie,  bel'  amie! 

4 

The  maiden  she  blushed,  and  the  maiden  she  sighed, 
Not  a  cloud  in  the  sky,  not  a  gale  on  the  tide; 
But  though  tempest  had  raged  on  the  wave  and  the  wind, 
That  castle,  methinks,  had  been  still  left  behind! 
Sweet  lily,  though  bow'd  by  the  blast, 

(To  this  bosom  transplanted)  since  then, 
Wouldst  thou  change,  could  we  call  the  past, 
To  the  rock  from  thy  garden  again — 
Bel'  amie,  bel'  amie,  bel'  amie? 

Thus  they  alternated  the  time  with  converse  and 
song,  as  the  wooded  hills  threw  their  sharp,  long 
shadows  over  the  sea;  while  from  many  a  mound  of 
waking  flowers,  and  many  a  copse  of  citron  and 
orange,  relieved  by  the  dark  and  solemn  aloe,  stole 
the  summer  breeze,  laden  with  mingled  odours ;  arid, 
over  the  seas,  coloured  by  the  slow-fading  hues  of  pur- 
ple and  rose,  that  the  sun  had  long  bequeathed  to  the 
twilight,  flitted  the  gay  fire-flies  that  sparkle  along  that 
enchanted  coast.  At  length,  the  moon  slowly  rose 
above  the  dark  forest-steeps,  gleaming  on  the  gay 
pavilion  and  glittering  pennon  of  Montreal, — on  the 
verdant  sward, — the  polished  mail  of  the  soldiers, 
stretched  on  the  grass  in  various  groups,  half-shaded 
by  oaks  and  cypress,  and  the  war-steeds  grazing  peace- 


238  RIENZI 

ably  together — a  wild  mixture  of  the  Pastoral  and 
the  Iron  time. 

Adrian,  reluctantly  reminded  of  his  journey,  rose  to 
depart. 

"  I  fear,"  said  he  to  Adeline,  "  that  I  have  already 
detained  you  too  late  in  the  night  air:  but  selfishness 
is  little  considerate." 

"  Nay,  you  see  we  are  prudent,"  said  Adeline,  point- 
ing to  Montreal's  mantle,  which  his  provident  hand 
had  long  since  drawn  around  her  form ;  "  but  if  you 
must  part,  farewell,  and  success  attend  you !  " 

"  We  may  meet  again,  I  trust,"  said  Adrian. 

Adeline  sighed  gently ;  and  the  Colonna,  gazing  on 
her  face  by  the  moonlight,  to  which  it  was  slightly 
raised,  was  painfully  struck  by  its  almost  transparent 
delicacy.  Moved  by  his  compassion,  ere  he  mounted 
his  steed,  he  drew  Montreal  aside, — "  Forgive  me  if  I 
seem  presumptuous,"  said  he ;  "  but  to  one  so  noble 
this  wild  life  is  scarce  a  fitting  career.  I  know  that, 
in  our  time,  War  consecrates  all  his  children ;  but 
surely  a  settled  rank  in  the  court  of  the  Emperor,  or 
an  honourable  reconciliation  with  your  knightly  breth- 
ren, were  better " 

"  Than  a  Tartar  camp,  and  a  brigand's  castle,"  in- 
terrupted Montreal,  with  some  impatience.  "  This 
you  were  about  to  say — you  are  mistaken.  Society 
thrust  me  from  her  bosom ;  let  society  take  the  fruit 
it  hath  sown.  '  A  fixed  rank,'  say  you  ?  some  subal- 
tern office,  to  fight  at  other  men's  command !  You 
know  me  not :  Walter  de  Montreal  was  not  formed 
to  obey.  War  when  I  will  and  rest  when  I  list,  is  the 
motto  of  my  escutcheon.  Ambition  proffers  me  re- 
wards you  wot  not  of;  and  I  am  of  the  mould  as  of 
the  race  of  those  whose  swords  have  conquered 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES        239 

thrones.  For  the  rest,  your  news  of  the  alliance  of 
Louis  of  Hungary  with  your  Tribune  makes  it  neces- 
sary for  the  friend  of  Louis  to  withdraw  from  all  feud 
with  Rome.  Ere  the  week  expire,  the  owl  and  the 
bat  may  seek  refuge  in  yon  gray  turrets." 

"But  your  lady?" 

"  Is  inured  to  change. — God  help  her,  and  temper 
the  rough  wind  to  the  lamb !  " 

"  Enough,  Sir  Knight :  but  should  you  desire  a  sure 
refuge  at  Rome  for  one  so  gentle  and  so  highborn,  by 
the  right  hand  of  a  knight,  I  promise  a  safe  roof  and 
an  honoured  home  to  the  Lady  Adeline." 

Montreal  pressed  the  offered  hand  to  his  heart ;  then 
plucking  his  own  hastily  away,  drew  it  across  his  eyes, 
and  joined  Adeline,  in  a  silence  that  showed  he  dared 
not  trust  himself  to  speak.  In  a  few  moments  Adrian 
and  his  train  were  on  the  march;  but  still  the  young 
Colonna  turned  back,  to  gaze  once  more  on  his  wild 
host  and  that  lovely  lady,  as  they  themselves  lingered 
on  the  moonlit  sward,  while  the  sea  rippled  mourn- 
fully on  their  ears. 

It  was  not  many  months  after  that  date,  that  the 
name  of  Fra  Moreale  scattered  terror  and  dismay 
throughout  the  fair  Campania.  The  right  hand  of  the 
Hungarian  king,  in  his  invasion  of  Naples,  he  was 
chosen  afterwards  vicar  (or  vicegerent)  of  Louis  in 
Aversa;  and  fame  and  fate  seemed  to  lead  him  tri- 
umphantly along  that  ambitious  career  which  he  had 
elected,  whether  bounded  by  the  scaffold  or  the 
throne. 


BOOK    IV 

THE   TRIUMPH  AND   THE  POMP 

"  Allora  fama  e  paura  di  si  buonp  reggimento,  passa  in 
ogni  terra." — Vita  di  Cola  di  Riensi,  lib.  i.  cap.  21. 

"  Then  the  fame  and  the  fear  of  that  so  good  government 
passed  into  every  land." — Life  of  Cola  di  Riensi. 

CHAPTER   I 

THE  BOY  ANGELO — THE  DREAM  OF  NINA  FULFILLED 

The  thread  of  my  story  transports  us  back  to  Rome. 
It  was  in  a  small  chamber,  in  a  ruinous  mansion  by  the 
base  of  Mount  Aventine,  that  a  young  boy  sate,  one 
evening,  with  a  woman  of  a  tall  and  stately  form,  but 
somewhat  bowed  both  by  infirmity  and  years.  The 
boy  was  of  a  fair  and  comely  presence ;  and  there  was 
that  in  his  bold,  frank,  undaunted  carriage,  which 
made  him  appear  older  than  he  was. 

The  old  woman,  seated  in  the  recess  of  the  deep 
window,  was  apparently  occupied  with  a  Bible  that  lay 
open  on  her  knees ;  but  ever  and  anon  she  lifted  her 
eyes,  and  gazed  on  her  young  companion  with  a  sad 
and  anxious  expression. 

"  Dame,"  said  the  boy,  who  was  busily  employed  in 
hewing  out  a  sword  of  wood,  "  I  would  you  had  seen 
the  show  to-day.  Why,  every  day  is  a  show  at  Rome 
now!  It  is  show  enough  to  see  the  Tribune  himself 
on  his  white  steed — (oh,  it  is  so  beautiful !) — with  his 
240 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES        241 

white  robes  all  studded  with  jewels.  But  to-day,  as  I 
have  just  been  telling  you,  the  Lady  Nina  took  notice 
of  me,  as  I  stood  on  the  stairs  of  the  Capitol :  you 
know,  dame,  I  had  donned  my  best  blue  velvet 
doublet" 

"  And  she  called  you  a  fair  boy,  and  asked  if  you 
would  be  her  little  page  ;  and  this  has  turned  thy  brain, 
silly  urchin  that  thou  art " 

"  But  the  words  are  the  least :  if  you  saw  the  Lady 
Nina,  you  would  own  that  a  smile  from  her  might  turn 
the  wisest  head  in  Italy.  Oh,  how  I  should  like  to 
serve  the  Tribune !  All  the  lads  of  my  age  are  mad 
for  him.  How  they  will  stare,  and  envy  me  at  school 
to-morrow !  You  know  too,  dame,  that  though  I  was 
not  always  brought  up  at  Rome,  I  am  Roman.  Every 
Roman  loves  Rienzi." 

"  Ay,  for  the  hour :  the  cry  will  soon  change.  This 
vanity  of  thine,  Angelo,  vexes  my  old  heart.  I  would 
thou  wert  humbler." 

"  Bastards  have  their  own  name  to  win,"  said  the 
boy,  colouring  deeply.  "  They  twit  me  in  the  teeth, 
because  I  cannot  say  who  my  father  and  mother  were." 

"  They  need  not,"  returned  the  dame,  hastily. 
"  Thou  comest  of  noble  blood  and  long  descent, 
though,  as  I  have  told  thee  often,  I  know  not  the  exact 
names  of  thy  parents.  But  what  art  thou  shaping  that 
tough  sapling  of  oak  into  ?  " 

"  A  sword,  damCj  to  assist  the  Tribune  against  the 
robbers." 

"  Alas !  I  fear  me,  like  all  those  who  seek  power  in 
Italy,  he  is  more  likely  to  enlist  robbers  than  to  assail 
them." 

"  Why,  la  you  there,  you  live  so  shut  up,  that  you 
know  and  hear  nothing,  or  you  would  have  learned 

16 


242  RIENZI 

that  even  that  fiercest  of  all  the  robbers,  Fra  Moreale, 
has  at  length  yielded  to  the  Tribune,  and  fled  from  his 
castle,  like  a  rat  from  a  falling  house." 

"  How,  how !  "  cried  the  dame ;  "  what  say  you  ? 
Has  this  plebeian,  whom  you  call  the  Tribune — has  he 
boldly  thrown  the  gage  to  that  dread  warrior  ?  and  has 
Montreal  left  the  Roman  territory  ?  " 

"  Ay,  it  is  the  talk  of  the  town.  But  Fra  Moreale 
seems  as  much  a  bugbear  to  you  as  to  e'er  a  mother 
in  Rome.  Did  he  ever  wrong  you,  dame  ?  " 

"  Yes !  "  exclaimed  the  old  woman,  with  so  abrupt 
a  fierceness,  that  even  that  hardy  boy  was  startled. 

"  I  wish  I  could  meet  him,  then,"  said  he,  after  a 
pause,  as  he  flourished  his  mimic  weapon. 

"  Now  Heaven  forbid !  He  is  a  man  ever  to  be 
shunned  by  thee,  whether  for  peace  or  war.  Say  again 
this  good  Tribune  holds  no  terms  with  the  Free 
Lances." 

"  Say  it  again — why  all  Rome  knows  it." 

"  He  is  pious,  too,  I  have  heard ;  and  they  do  bruit 
it  that  he  sees  visions,  and  is  comforted  from  above," 
said  the  woman,  speaking  to  herself.  Then  turning  to 
Angelo,  she  continued, — "  Thou  wouldst  like  greatly 
to  accept  the  Lady  Nina's  proffer?  " 

"  Ah,  that  I  should,  dame,  if  you  could  spare  me." 

"  Child,"  replied  the  matron,  solemnly,  "  my  sand 
is  nearly  run,  and  my  wish  is  to  see  thee  placed  with 
one  who  will  nurture  thy  young  years,  and  save  thee 
from  a  life  of  licence.  That  done,  I  may  fulfil  my  vow, 
and  devote  the  desolate  remnant  of  my  years  to  God. 
I  will  think  more  of  this,  my  child.  Not  under  such  a 
plebeian's  roof  shouldst  thou  have  lodged,  nor  from  a 
stranger's  board  been  fed :  but  at  Rome,  my  last  rela- 
tive worthy  of  the  trust  is  dead; — and  at  the  worst, 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES        243 

obscure  honesty  is  better  than  gaudy  crime.  Thy 
spirit  troubles  me  already.  Back,  my  child ;  I  must  to 
my  closet,  and  watch  and  pray." 

Thus  saying,  the  old  woman,  repelling  the  advance, 
and  silencing  the  muttered  and  confused  words,  of  the 
boy — half  affectionate  as  they  were,  yet  half  tetchy  and 
wayward — glided  from  the  chamber. 

The  boy  looked  abstractedly  at  the  closing  door,  and 
then  said  to  himself — "  The  dame  is  always  talking 
riddles :  I  wonder  if  she  know  more  of  me  than  she 
tells,  or  if  she  is  any  way  akin  to  me.  I  hope  not,  for 
I  don't  love  her  much ;  nor,  for  that  matter,  anything 
else.  I  wish  she  would  place  me  with  the  Tribune's 
lady,  and  then  we'll  see  who  among  the  lads  will  call 
Angelo  Villani  bastard." 

With  that  the  boy  fell  to  work  again  at  his  sword 
with  redoubled  vigour.  In  fact,  the  cold  manner  of 
this  female,  his  sole  nurse,  companion,  substitute  for 
parent,  had  repelled  his  affections  without  subduing 
his  temper ;  and  though  not  originally  of  evil  disposi- 
tion, Angelo  Villani  was  already  insolent,  cunning, 
and  revengeful ;  but  not,  on  the  other  hand,  without 
a  quick  susceptibility  to  kindness  as  to  affront,  a  nat- 
ural acuteness  of  understanding,  and  a  great  indiffer- 
ence to  fear.  Brought  up  in  quiet  affluence  rather 
than  luxury,  and  living  much  with  his  protector,  whom 
he  knew  but  by  the  name  of  Ursula,  his  bearing  was 
graceful,  and  his  air  that  of  the  well-born.  And  it  was 
his  carriage,  perhaps,  rather  than  his  countenance, 
which,  though  handsome,  was  more  distinguished  for 
intelligence  than  beauty,  which  had  attracted  the  no- 
tice of  the  Tribune's  bride.  His  education  was  that  of 
one  reared  for  some  scholastic  profession.  He  was 
not  only  taught  to  read  and  write,  but  had  been  even 


244  RIENZI 

instructed  in  the  rudiments  of  Latin.  He  did  not, 
however,  incline  to  these  studies  half  so  fondly  as  to 
the  games  of  his  companions,  or  the  shows  or  riots  in 
the  street,  into  all  of  which  he  managed  to  thrust  him- 
self, and  from  which  he  had  always  the  happy  dex- 
terity to  return  safe  and  unscathed. 

The  next  morning  Ursula  entered  the  young  An- 
gelo's  chamber.  "  Wear  again  thy  blue  doublet  to- 
day," said  she ;  "  I  would  have  thee  look  thy  best. 
Thou  shalt  go  with  me  to  the  palace." 

"  What,  to-day  ?  "  cried  the  boy  joyfully,  half  leap- 
ing from  his  bed.  "  Dear  dame  Ursula,  shall  I  really 
then  belong  to  the  train  of  the  great  Tribune's  lady  ?  " 

"  Yes ;  and  leave  the  old  woman  to  die  alone  !  Your 
joy  becomes  you, — but  ingratitude  is  in  your  blood. 
Ingratitude !  Oh,  it  has  burned  my  heart  into  ashes — 
and  yours,  boy,  can  no  longer  find  a  fuel  in  the  dry 
crumbling  cinders." 

"  Dear  dame,  you  are  always  so  biting.  You  know 
you  said  you  wished  to  retire  into  a  convent,  and  I  was 
too  troublesome  a  charge  for  you.  But  you  delight 
in  rebuking  me,  justly  or  unjustly." 

"  My  task  is  over,"  said  Ursula,  with  a  deep-drawn 
sigh. 

The  boy  answered  not ;  and  the  old  woman  retired 
with  a  heavy  step,  and,  it  may  be,  a  heavier  heart. 
When  he  joined  her  in  their  common  apartment,  he 
observed  what  his  joy  had  previously  blinded  him  to — 
that  Ursula  did  not  wear  her  usual  plain  and  sober 
dress.  The  gold  chain,  rarely  assumed  then  by  women 
not  of  noble  birth — though,  in  the  other  sex,  affected 
also  by  public  functionaries  and  wealthy  merchants — 
glittered  upon  a  robe  of  the  rich  flowered  stuffs  of 
Venice,  and  the  clasps  that  confined  the  vest  at  the 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES        245 

throat  and  waist  were  adorned  with  jewels  of  no  com- 
mon price. 

Angelo's  eye  was  struck  by  the  change,  but  he  felt 
a  more  manly  pride  in  remarking  that  the  old  lady 
became  it  well.  Her  air  and  mien  were  indeed  those 
of  one  to  whom  such  garments  were  habitual ;  and 
they  seemed  that  day  more  than  usually  austere  and 
stately. 

She  smoothed  the  boy's  ringlets,  drew  his  short 
mantle  more  gracefully  over  his  shoulder,  and  then 
placed  in  his  belt  a  poniard  whose  handle  was  richly 
studded,  and  a  purse  well  rilled  with  florins. 

"  Learn  to  use  both  discreetly,"  said  she ;  "  and 
whether  I  live  or  die,  you  will  never  require  to  wield 
the  poniard  to  procure  the  gold." 

"  This,  then,"  cried  Angelo,  enchanted,  "  is  a  real 
poniard  to  fight  the  robbers  with!  Ah,  with  this  I 
should  not  fear  Fra  Moreale,  who  wronged  thee  so. 
I  trust  I  may  yet  avenge  thee,  though  thou  didst  rate 
me  so  just  now  for  ingratitude." 

"  I  am  avenged.  Nourish  not  such  thoughts,  my 
son,  they  are  sinful ;  at  least  I  fear  so.  Draw  to  the 
board  and  eat;  we  will  go  betimes,  as  petitioners 
should  do." 

Angelo  had  soon  finished  his  morning  meal,  and 
sallying  with  Ursula  to  the  porch,  he  saw,  to  his  sur- 
prise, four  of  those  servitors  who  then  usually  attended 
persons  of  distinction,  and  who  were  to  be  hired  in 
every  city,  for  the  convenience  of  strangers  or  the 
holyday  ostentation  of  the  gayer  citizens. 

"  How  grand  we  are  to-day !  "  said  he,  clapping  his 
hands  with  an  eagerness  which  Ursula  failed  not  to 
reprove. 

"  It  is  not  for  vain  show,"  she  added,  "  which  true 


246  RIENZI 

nobility  can  well  dispense  with,  but  that  we  may  the 
more  readily  gain  admittance  to  the  palace.  These 
princes  of  yesterday  are  not  easy  of  audience  to  the 
over  humble." 

"  Oh !  but  you  are  wrong  this  time,"  said  the  boy. 
"  The  Tribune  gives  audience  to  all  men,  the  poorest 
as  the  richest.  Nay,  there  is  not  a  ragged  boor,  or  a 
barefooted  friar,  who  does  not  win  access  to  him 
sooner  than  the  proudest  baron.  That's  why  the 
people  love  him  so.  And  he  devotes  one  day  of  the 
week  to  receiving  the  widows  and  the  orphans ; — and 
you  know,  dame,  I  am  an  orphan." 

Ursula,  already  occupied  with  her  own  thoughts,  did 
not  answer,  and  scarcely  heard,  the  boy ;  but  leaning 
on  his  young  arm,  and  preceded  by  the  footmen  to 
clear  the  way,  passed  slowly  towards  the  palace  of  the 
Capitol. 

A  wonderful  thing  would  it  have  been  to  a  more 
observant  eye,  to  note  the  change  which  two  or  three 
short  months  of  the  stern  but  salutary  and  wise  rule 
of  the  Tribune  had  effected  in  the  streets  of  Rome. 
You  no  longer  beheld  the  gaunt  and  mail-clad  forms 
of  foreign  mercenaries  stalking  through  the  vistas,  or 
grouped  in  lazy  insolence  before  the  embattled  porches 
of  some  gloomy  palace.  The  shops,  that  in  many 
quarters  had  been  closed  for  years,  were  again  open, 
glittering  with  wares  and  bustling  with  trade.  The 
thoroughfares,  formerly  either  silent  as  death,  or 
crossed  by  some  affrighted  and  solitary  passenger  with 
quick  steps,  and  eyes  that  searched  every  corner, — or 
resounding  with  the  roar  of  a  pauper  rabble,  or  the 
open  feuds  of  savage  nobles,  now  exhibited  the  regu- 
lar, and  wholesome,  and  mingled  streams  of  civilised 
life,  whether  bound  to  pleasure  or  to  commerce.  Carts 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES        247 

and  waggons  laden  with  goods  which  had  passed 
in  safety  by  the  dismantled  holds  of  the  robbers  of 
the  Campagna,  rattled  cheerfully  over  the  pathways. 
"  Never,  perhaps," — to  use  the  translation  .  adapted 
from  the  Italian  authorities,  by  a  modern  and  by  no 
means  a  partial  historian* — "  Never,  perhaps,  has  the 
energy  and  effect  of  a  single  mind  been  more  remark- 
ably felt  than  in  the  sudden  reformation  of  Rome  by 
the  Tribune  Rienzi.  A  den  of  robbers  was  converted  to 
the  discipline  of  a  camp  or  convent.  '  In  this  time/ 
says  the  historian,!  '  did  the  woods  begin  to  rejoice 
that  they  were  no  longer  infested  with  robbers;  the 
oxen  began  to  plough ;  the  pilgrims  visited  the  sanctu- 
aries ;J  the  roads  and  inns  were  replenished  with  trav- 
ellers :  trade,  plenty,  and  good  faith,  were  restored  in 
the  markets ;  and  a  purse  of  gold  might  be  exposed 
without  danger  in  the  midst  of  the  highways.'  " 

Amidst  all  these  evidences  of  comfort  and  security 
to  the  people — some  dark  and  discontented  counte- 
nances might  be  seen  mingled  in  the  crowd,  and  when- 
ever one  who  wore  the  livery  of  the  Colonna  or  the 
Orsini  felt  himself  jostled  by  the  throng,  a  fierce  hand 
moved  involuntarily  to  the  sword-belt,  and  a  half- 
suppressed  oath  was  ended  with  an  indignant  sigh. 
Here  and  there  too, — contrasting  the  redecorated,  re- 
furnished, and  smiling  shops — heaps  of  rubbish  before 
the  gate  of  some  haughty  mansion  testified  the  abase- 
ment of  fortifications  which  the  owner  impotently  re- 
sented as  a  sacrilege.  Through  such  streets  and  such 
throngs  did  the  party  we  accompany  wend  their  way, 
till  they  found  themselves  amidst  crowds  assembled 

*  Gibbon. 

t  Vita  di  Cola  di  Rienzi,  lib.  i.  c.  9. 

$  Gibbon :  the  words  in  the  original  are  "  li  Pellegrini  comin- 
ciaro  a  fere  le  cerca  per  la  santuaria." 


248  RIENZI 

before  the  entrance  of  the  Capitol.  The  officers  there 
stationed  kept,  however,  so  discreet  and  dexterous  an 
order,  that  they  were  not  long  detained ;  and  now  in 
the  broad  place  or  court  of  that  memorable  building, 
they  saw  the  open  doors  of  the  great  justice-hall, 
guarded  but  by  a  single  sentinel,  and  in  which,  for  six 
hours  daily,  did  the  Tribune  hold  his  court,  for 
"  patient  to  hear,  swift  to  redress,  inexorable  to  punish, 
his  tribunal  was  always  accessible  to  the  poor  and 
stranger."  * 

Not,  however,  to  that  hall  did  the  party  bend  its 
way,  but  to  the  entrance  which  admitted  to  the  private 
apartments  of  the  palace.  And  here  the  pomp,  the 
gaud,  the  more  than  regal  magnificence,  of  the  resi- 
dence of  the  Tribune,  strongly  contrasted  the  patri- 
archal simplicity  which  marked  his  justice  court. 

Even  Ursula,  not  unaccustomed,  of  yore,  to  the  lux- 
urious state  of  Italian  and  French  principalities, 
seemed  roused  into  surprise  at  the  hall  crowded  with 
retainers  in  costly  liveries,  the  marble  and  gilded  col- 
umns wreathed  with  flowers,  and  the  gorgeous  banners 
wrought  with  the  blended  arms  of  the  Republican  City 
and  the  Pontifical  See,  which  blazed  aloft  and  around. 

Scarce  knowing  whom  to  address  in  such  an  as- 
semblage, Ursula  was  relieved  from  her  perplexity  by 
an  officer  attired  in  a  suit  of  crimson  and  gold,  who, 
with  a  grave  and  formal  decorum,  which  indeed 
reigned  throughout  the  whole  retinue,  demanded,  re- 
spectfully, whom  she  sought  ?  "  The  Signora  Nina !  " 
replied  Ursula,  drawing  up  her  stately  person,  with  a 
natural,  though  somewhat  antiquated,  dignity.  There 
was  something  foreign  in  the  accent,  which  influenced 
the  officer's  answer. 

*  Gibbon. 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES        249 

"  To-day,  madam,  I  fear  that  the  Signora  receives 
only  the  Roman  ladies.  To-morrow  is  that  appointed 
for  all  foreign  dames  of  distinction." 

Ursula,  with  a  slight  impatience  of  tone,  replied — 

"  My  business  is  of  that  nature  which  is  welcome  on 
any  day,  at  palaces.  I  come,  Signer,  to  lay  certain 
presents  at  the  Signora's  feet,  which  I  trust  she  will 
deign  to  accept." 

"  And  say,  Signer,"  added  the  boy,  abruptly,  "  that 
Angelo  Villani,  whom  the  Lady  Nina  honoured  yes- 
terday with  her  notice,  is  no  stranger  but  a  Roman ; 
and  comes,  as  she  bade  him,  to  proffer  to  the  Signora 
his  homage  and  devotion." 

The  grave  officer  could  not  refrain  a  smile  at  the 
pert,  yet  not  ungraceful,  boldness  of  the  boy. 

"  I  remember  me,  Master  Angelo  Villani,"  he  re- 
plied, "  that  the  Lady  Nina  spoke  to  you  by  the  great 
staircase.  Madam,  I  will  do  your  errand.  Please  to 
follow  me  to  an  apartment  more  fitting  your  sex  and 
seeming." 

With  that  the  officer  led  the  way  across  the  hall  to 
a  broad  staircase  of  white  marble,  along  the  centre  of 
which  were  laid  those  rich  Eastern  carpets  which  at 
that  day,  when  rushes  strewed  the  chambers  of  an 
English  monarch,  were  already  common  to  the  greater 
luxury  of  Italian  palaces.  Opening  a  door  at  the  first 
flight,  he  ushered  Ursula  and  her  young  charge  into 
a  lofty  ante-chamber,  hung  with  arras  of  wrought  vel- 
vets ;  while  over  the  opposite  door,  through  which  the 
officer  now  vanished,  were  blazoned  the  armorial  bear- 
ings which  the  Tribune  so  constantly  introduced  in  all 
his  pomp,  not  more  from  the  love  of  show,  than  from 
his  politic  desire  to  mingle  with  the  keys  of  the  Pontiff 
the  heraldic  insignia  of  the  Republic. 


250  RIENZI 

"  Philip  of  Valois  is  not  housed  like  this  man  !  "  mut- 
tered Ursula.  "  If  this  last,  I  shall  have  done  better 
for  my  charge  than  I  recked  of." 

The  officer  soon  returned,  and  led  them  across  an 
apartment  of  vast  extent,  which  was  indeed  the  great 
reception  chamber  of  the  palace.  Four-and-twenty 
columns  of  the  Oriental  alabaster  which  had  attested 
the  spoils  of  the  later  emperors,  and  had  been  disin- 
terred from  forgotten  ruins,  to  grace  the  palace  of  the 
Reviver  of  the  old  Republic,  supported  the  light  roof, 
which,  half  Gothic,  half  classic,  in  its  architecture,  was 
inlaid  with  gilded  and  purple  mosaics.  The  tesselated 
floor  was  covered  in  the  centre  with  cloth  of  gold,  the 
walls  were^  clothed,  at  intervals,  with  the  same  gor- 
geous hangings,  relieved  by  panels  freshly  painted  in 
the  most  glowing  colours,  with  mystic  and  symbolical 
designs.  At  the  upper  end  of  this  royal  chamber,  two 
steps  ascended  to  the  place  of  the  Tribune's  throne, 
above  which  was  the  canopy  wrought  with  the  eternal 
armorial  bearings  of  the  Pontiff  and  the  City. 

Traversing  this  apartment,  the  officer  opened  the 
door  at  its  extremity,  which  admitted  to  a  small 
chamber,  crowded  with  pages  in  rich  dresses  of  silver 
and  blue  velvet.  There  were  few  amongst  them  elder 
than  Angelo;  and,  from  their  general  beauty,  they 
seemed  the  very  flower  and  blossom  of  the  city. 

Short  time  had  Angelo  to  gaze  on  his  comrades  that 
were  to  be: — another  minute,  and  he  and  his  pro- 
tectress were  in  the  presence  of  the  Tribune's  bride. 

The  chamber  was  not  large — but  it  was  large 
enough  to  prove  that  the  beautiful  daughter  of  Raselli 
had  realised  her  visions  of  vanity  and  splendour. 

It  was  an  apartment  that  mocked  description — it 
seemed  a  cabinet  for  the  gems  of  the  world.  The  day- 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES        251 

light,  shaded  by  high  and  deep-set  casements  of  stained 
glass,  streamed  in  a  purple  and  mellow  hue  over  all 
that  the  art  of  that  day  boasted  most  precious,  or  regal 
luxury  held  most  dear.  The  candelabras  of  the  silver 
workmanship  of  Florence  ;  the  carpets  and  stuffs  of  the 
East;  the  draperies  of  Venice  and  Genoa;  paintings 
like  the  illuminated  missals,  wrought  in  gold,  and 
those  lost  colours  of  blue  and  crimson ;  antique  mar- 
bles, which  spoke  of  the  bright  days  of  Athens ;  tables 
of  disinterred  mosaics,  their  freshness  preserved  as  by 
magic;  censers  of  gold  that  steamed  with  the  odours 
of  Araby,  yet  so  subdued  as  not  to  deaden  the  health- 
ier scent  of  flowers,  which  blushed  in  every  corner 
from  their  marble  and  alabaster  vases ;  a  small  and 
spirit-like  fountain,  which  seemed  to  gush  from  among 
wreaths  of  roses,  diffusing  in  its  diamond  and  fairy 
spray,  a  scarce  felt  coolness  to  the  air ; — all  these,  and 
such  as  these,  which  it  were  vain  work  to  detail,  con- 
gregated in  the  richest  luxuriance,  harmonised  with 
the  most  exquisite  taste,  uniting  the  ancient  arts  with 
the  modern,  amazed  and  intoxicated  the  sense  of  the 
beholder.  It  was  not  so  much  the  cost,  nor  the  lux- 
ury, that  made  the  character  of  the  chamber ;  it  was  a 
certain  gorgeous  and  almost  sublime  phantasy, — so 
that  it  seemed  rather  the  fabled  retreat  of  an  enchant- 
ress, at  whose  word  genii  ransacked  the  earth,  and 
fairies  arranged  the  produce,  than  the  grosser  splen- 
dour of  an  earthly  queen.  Behind  the  piled  cushions 
upon  which  Nina  half  reclined,  stood  four  girls,  beau- 
tiful as  nymphs,  with  fans  of  the  rarest  feathers,  and 
at  her  feet  lay  one  older  than  the  rest,  whose  lute, 
though  now  silent,  attested  her  legitimate  occupation. 
But,  had  the  room  in  itself  seemed  somewhat  too 
fantastic  and  overcharged  in  its  prodigal  ornaments, 


252  RIENZI 

the  form  and  face  of  Nina  would  at  once  have  ren- 
dered all  appropriate :  so  completely  did  she  seem  the 
natural  Spirit  of  the  Place ;  so  wonderfully  did  her 
beauty,  elated  as  it  now  was  with  contented  love,  grati- 
fied vanity,  exultant  hope,  body  forth  the  brightest 
vision  that  ever  floated  before  the  eyes  of  Tasso,  when 
he  wrought  into  one  immortal  shape  the  glory  of  the 
Enchantress  with  the  allurements  of  the  Woman. 

Nina  half  rose  as  she  saw  Ursula,  whose  sedate  and 
mournful  features  involuntarily  testified  her  surprise 
and  admiration  at  a  loveliness  so  rare  and  striking,  but 
who,  undazzled  by  the  splendour  around,  soon  recov- 
ered her  wonted  self-composure,  and  seated  herself  on 
the  cushion  to  which  Nina  pointed,  while  the  young 
visitor  remained  standing,  and  spell-bound  by  childish 
wonder,  in  the  centre  of  the  apartment.  Nina  recog- 
nised him  with  a  smile. 

"  Ah,  my  pretty  boy,  whose  quick  eye  and  bold  air 
caught  my  fancy  yesterday!  Have  you  come  to  ac- 
cept my  offer?  Is  it  you,  madam,  who  claim  this  fair 
child?" 

"  Lady,"  replied  Ursula,  "  my  business  here  is  brief : 
by  a  train  of  events,  needless  to  weary  you  with  nar- 
rating, this  boy  from  his  infancy  fell  to  my  charge — a 
weighty  and  anxious  trust  to  one  whose  thoughts  are 
beyond  the  barrier  of  life.  I  have  reared  him  as  be- 
came a  youth  of  gentle  blood ;  for  on  both  sides,  lady, 
he  is  noble,  though  an  orphan,  motherless  and  sire- 
less." 

"  Poor  child !  "  said  Nina,  compassionately. 

"  Growing  now,"  continued  Ursula,  "  oppressed  by 
years,  and  desirous  only  to  make  my  peace  with 
Heaven,  I  journeyed  hither  some  months  since,  in  the 
design  to  place  the  boy  with  a  relation  of  mine ;  and, 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES        253 

that  trust  fulfilled,  to  take  the  vows  in  the  City  of  the 
Apostle.  Alas !  I  found  my  kinsman  dead,  and  a  baron 
of  wild  and  dissolute  character  was  his  heir.  Here 
remaining,  perplexed  and  anxious,  it  seemed  to  me 
the  voice  of  Providence  when,  yester-evening,  the 
child  told  me  you  had  been  pleased  to  honour  him 
with  your  notice.  Like  the  rest  of  Rome,  he  has 
already  learned  enthusiasm  for  the  Tribune — devotion 
to  the  Tribune's  bride.  Will  you,  in  truth,  admit  him 
of  your  household  ?  He  will  not  dishonour  your  pro- 
tection by  his  blood,  nor,  I  trust,  by  his  bearing." 

"  I  would  take  his  face  for  his  guarantee,  madam, 
even  without  so  distinguished  a  recommendation  as 
your  own.  Is  he  Roman?  His  name  then  must  be 
known  to  me." 

"  Pardon  me,  lady,"  replied  Ursula :  "  he  bears  the 
name  of  Angelo  Villani — not  that  of  his  sire  or  mother. 
The  honour  of  a  noble  house  for  ever  condemns  his 
parentage  to  rest  unknown.  He  is  the  offspring  of  a 
love  unsanctioned  by  the  church." 

"  He  is  the  more  to  be  loved,  then,  and  to  be  pitied 
— victim  of  sin  not  his  own !  "  answered  Nina,  with 
moistened  eyes,  as  she  saw  the  deep  and  burning  blush 
that  covered  the  boy's  cheeks.  "  With  the  Tribune's 
reign  commences  a  new  era  of  nobility,  when  rank 
and  knighthood  shall  be  won  by  a  man's  own  merit — 
not  that  of  his  ancestors.  Fear  not,  madam :  in  my 
house  he  shall  know  no  slight." 

Ursula  was  moved  from  her  pride  by  the  kindness 
of  Nina;  she  approached  with  involuntary  reverence, 
and  kissed  the  Signora's  hand — 

"  May  our  Lady  reward  your  noble  heart !  "  said 
she :  "  and  now  my  mission  is  ended,  and  my  earthly 
goal  is  won.  Add  only,  lady,  to  your  inestimable 


254  RIENZI 

favours  one  more.  These  jewels  " — and  Ursula  drew 
from  her  robe  a  casket,  touched  the  spring,  and  the  lid 
flying  back,  discovered  jewels  of  great  size  and  the 
most  brilliant  water, — "  these  jewels,"  she  continued, 
laying  the  casket  at  Nina's  feet,  "  once  belonging  to 
the  princely  house  of  Thoulouse,  are  valueless  to  me 
and  mine.  Suffer  me  to  think  that  they  are  trans- 
ferred to  one  whose  queenly  brow  will  give  them  a 
lustre  it  cannot  borrow." 

"  How !  "  said  Nina,  colouring  very  deeply ;  "  think 
you,  madam,  my  kindness  can  be  bought?  What 
woman's  kindness  ever  was?  Nay,  nay — take  back 
the  gifts,  or  I  shall  pray  you  to  take  back  your 
boy." 

Ursula  was  astonished  and  confounded:  to  her  ex- 
perience such  abstinence  was  a  novelty,  and  she 
scarcely  knew  how  to  meet  it.  Nina  perceived  her 
embarrassment  with  a  haughty  and  triumphant  smile, 
and  then,  regaining  her  former  courtesy  of  demeanour, 
said,  with  a  grave  sweetness — 

"  The  Tribune's  hands  are  clean, — the  Tribune's  wife 
must  not  be  suspected.  Rather,  madam,  should  I 
press  upon  you  some  token  of  exchange  for  the  fair 
charge  you  have  committed  to  me.  Your  jewels  here- 
after may  profit  the  boy  in  his  career:  reserve  them 
for  one  who  needs  them." 

"  No,  lady,"  said  Ursula,  rising  and  lifting  her  eyes 
to  heaven ; — "  they  shall  buy  masses  for  his  mother's 
soul ;  for  him  I  shall  reserve  a  competence  when  his 
years  require  it.  Lady,  accept  the  thanks  of  a 
wretched  and  desolate  heart.  Fare  you  well !  " 

She  turned  to  quit  the  room,  but  with  so  faltering 
and  weak  a  step,  that  Nina,  touched  and  affected, 
sprung  up,  and  with  her  own  hand  guided  the  old 


255 

woman  across  the  room,  whispering  comfort  and 
soothing  to  her;  while,  as  they  reached  the  door,  the 
boy  rushed  forward,  and,  clasping  Ursula's  robe,  sob- 
bed out — "  Dear  dame,  not  one  farewell  for  your  little 
Angelo !  Forgive  him  all  he  has  cost  you !  Now,  for 
the  first  time,  I  feel  how  wayward  and  thankless  I  have 
been." 

The  old  woman  caught  him  in  her  arms,  and  kissed 
him  passionately ;  when  the  boy,  as  if  a  thought  sud- 
denly struck  him,  drew  forth  the  purse  she  had  given 
him,  and  said,  in  a  choked  and  scarce  articulate  voice, 
— "  And  let  this,  dearest  dame,  go  in  masses  for  my 
poor  father's  soul ;  for  he  is  dead,  too,  you  know !  " 

These  words  seemed  to  freeze  at  once  all  the  ten- 
derer emotions  of  Ursula.  She  put  back  the  boy  with 
the  same  chilling  and  stern  severity  of  aspect  and  man- 
ner which  had  so  often  before  repressed  him :  and  re- 
covering her  self-possession,  at  once  quitted  the  apart- 
ment without  saying  another  word.  Nina,  surprised, 
but  still  pitying  her  sorrow  and  respecting  her  age, 
followed  her  steps  across  the  pages'  ante-room  and  the 
reception-chamber,  even  to  the  foot  of  the  stairs, — a 
condescension  the  haughtiest  princes  of  Rome  could 
not  have  won  from  her;  and  returning,  saddened  and 
thoughtful,  she  took  the  boy's  hand,  and  affectionately 
kissed  his  forehead. 

"  Poor  boy !  "  she  said,  "  it  seems  as  if  Providence 
had  made  me  select  thee  yesterday  from  the  crowd, 
and  thus  conducted  thee  to  thy  proper  refuge.  For  to 
whom  should  come  the  friendless  and  the  orphans  of 
Rome,  but  to  the  palace  of  Rome's  first  Magistrate  ?  " 
Turning  then  to  her  attendants,  she  gave  them  in- 
structions as  to  the  personal  comforts  of  her  new 
charge,  which  evinced  that  if  power  had  ministered  to 


256  RIENZI 

her  vanity,  it  had  not  steeled  her  heart.  Angelo 
Villani  lived  to  repay  her  well! 

She  retained  the  boy  in  her  presence,  and  convers- 
ing with  him  familiarly,  she  was  more  and  more 
pleased  with  his  bold  spirit  and  frank  manner.  Their 
conversation  was  however  interrupted,  as  the  day  ad- 
vanced, by  the  arrival  of  several  ladies  of  the  Roman 
nobility.  And  then  it  was  that  Nina's  virtues  receded 
into  shade,  and  her  faults  appeared.  She  could  not 
resist  the  woman's  triumph  over  those  arrogant  sig- 
noras  who  now  cringed  in  homage  where  they  had 
once  slighted  with  disdain.  She  affected  the  manner 
of,  she  demanded  the  respect  due,  to  a  queen.  And 
by  many  of  those  dexterous  arts  which  the  sex  know 
so  well,  she  contrived  to  render  her  very  courtesy  a 
humiliation  to  her  haughty  guests.  Her  commanding 
beauty  and  her  graceful  intellect  saved  her,  indeed, 
from  the  vulgar  insolence  of  the  upstart ;  but  yet  more 
keenly  stung  the  pride,  by  forbidding  to  those  she 
mortified  the  retaliation  of  contempt.  Hers  were  the 
covert  taunt — the  smiling  affront — the  sarcasm  in  the 
mask  of  compliment — the  careless  exaction  of  respect 
in  trifles,  which  could  not  outwardly  be  resented,  but 
which  could  not  inly  be  forgiven. 

"  Fair  day  to  the  Signora  Colonna,"  said  she  to  the 
proud  wife  of  the  proud  Stephen ;  "  we  passed  your 
palace  yesterday.  How  fair  it  now  seems,  relieved 
from  those  gloomy  battlements  which  it  must  often 
have  saddened  you  to  gaze  upon.  Signora  "  (turning 
to  one  of  the  Orsini),  "  your  lord  has  high  favour  with 
the  Tribune,  who  destines  him  to  great  command. 
His  fortunes  are  secured,  and  we  rejoice  at  it ;  for  no 
man  more  loyally  serves  the  state.  Have  you  seen, 
fair  Lady  of  Frangipani,  the  last  verses  of  Petrarch 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES        257 

in  honour  of  my  lord  ? — they  rest  yonder.  May  we  so 
far  venture  as  to  request  you  to  point  out  their  beau- 
ties to  the  Signora  di  Savelli?  We  rejoice,  noble 
Lady  of  Malatesta,  to  observe  that  your  eyesight  is  so 
well  restored.  The  last  time  we  met,  though  we  stood 
next  to  you  in  the  revels  of  the  Lady  Giulia,  you 
seemed  scarce  to  distinguish  us  from  the  pillar  by 
which  we  stood  !  " 

"  Must  this  insolence  be  endured !  "  whispered  the 
Signora  Frangipani  to  the  Signora  Malatesta. 

"  Hush,  hush ;  if  ever  it  be  our  day  again  !  " 


CHAPTER    II 

THE    BLESSING    OF    A    COUNCILLOR    WHOSE    INTERESTS 

AND   HEART  ARE   OUR    OWN. THE   STRAWS   THROWN 

UPWARD — DO    THEY    PORTEND    A   STORM 

It  was  later  that  day  than  usual,  when  Rienzi  -re- 
turned from  his  tribunal  to  the  apartments  of  the  pal- 
ace. As  he  traversed  the  reception  hall,  his  counte- 
nance was  much  flushed ;  his  teeth  were  set  firmly,  like 
a  man  who  has  taken  a  strong  resolution  from  which 
he  will  not  be  moved;  and  his  brow  was  dark  with 
that  settled  and  fearful  frown  which  the  describers  of 
his  personal  appearance  have  not  failed  to  notice  as  the 
characteristic  of  an  anger  the  more  deadly  because  in- 
variably just.  Close  at  his  heels  followed  the  Bishop 
of  Orvietto  and  the  aged  Stephen  Colonna.  "  I  tell 
you,  my  Lords,"  said  Rienzi,  "  that  ye  plead  in  vain. 
Rome  knows  no  distinction  between  ranks.  The  law 
is  blind  to  the  agent — lynx-eyed  to  the  deed." 

"  Yet,"  said  Raimond,  hesitatingly,  "  bethink  thee, 
17 


258  RIENZI 

Tribune;  the  nephew  of  two  cardinals,  and  himself 
once  a  senator." 

Rienzi  halted  abruptly,  and  faced  his  companions. 
"  My  Lord  Bishop,"  said  he,  "  does  not  this  make  the 
crime  more  inexcusable  ?  Look  you,  thus  it  reads  : — 
A  vessel  from  Avignon  to  Naples,  charged  with  the 
revenues  of  Provence  to  Queen  Joanna,  on  whose 
cause,  mark  you,  we  now  hold  solemn  council,  is 
wrecked  at  the  mouth  of  the  Tiber ;  with  that,  Martino 
di  Porto — a  noble,  as  you  say — the  holder  of  that  for- 
tress whence  he  derives  his  title, — doubly  bound  by 
gentle  blood  and  by  immediate  neighbourhood  to  suc- 
cour the  oppressed — falls  upon  the  vessel  with  his 
troops  (what  hath  the  rebel  with  armed  troops?) — 
and  pillages  the  vessel  like  a  common  robber.  He  is 
apprehended — brought  to  my  tribunal — receives  fair 
trial — is  condemned  to  die.  Such  is  the  law ; — what 
more  would  ye  have  ?  " 

"  Mercy,"  said  the  Colonna. 

Rienzi  folded  his  arms,  and  laughed  disdainfully. 
"  I  never  heard  my  Lord  Colonna  plead  for  mercy 
when  a  peasant  had  stolen  the  bread  that  was  to  feed 
his  famishing  children." 

"  Between  a  peasant  and  a  prince,  Tribune,  /,  for 
one,  recognise  a  distinction : — the  bright  blood  of  an 
Orsini  is  not  to  be  shed  like  that  of  a  base  ple- 
beian  " 

"  Which,  I  remember  me,"  said  Rienzi,  in  a  low 
voice,  "  you  deemed  small  matter  enough  when  my 
boy-brother  fell  beneath  the  wanton  spear  of  your 
proud  son.  Wake  not  that  memory,  I  warn  you ;  let 
it  sleep. — For  shame,  old  Colonna — for  shame ;  so 
near  the  grave,  where  the  worm  levels  all  flesh,  and 
preaching,  with  those  gray  hairs,  the  uncharitable  dis- 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES        259 

tinction  between  man  and  man.  Is  there  not  distinc- 
tion enough  at  the  best?  Does  not  one  wear  purple, 
and  the  other  rags  ?  Hath  not  one  ease  and  the  other 
toil?  Doth  not  the  one  banquet  while  the  other 
starves?  Do  I  nourish  any  mad  scheme  to  level  the 
ranks  which  society  renders  a  necessary  evil  ?  No.  I 
war  no  more  with  Dives  than  with  Lazarus.  But  be- 
fore man's  judgment-seat,  as  before  God's,  Lazarus 
and  Dives  are  made  equal.  No  more." 

Colonna  drew  his  robe  round  him  with  great 
haughtiness,  and  bit  his  lip  in  silence.  Raimond  in- 
terposed. 

"  All  this  is  true,  Tribune.  But,"  and  he  drew 
Rienzi  aside,  "  you  know  we  must  be  politic  as  well  as 
just.  Nephew  to  two  cardinals,  what  enmity  will  not 
this  provoke  at  Avignon  ?  " 

"  Vex  not  yourself,  holy  Raimond,  I  will  answer  it 
to  the  Pontiff."  While  they  spoke  the  bell  tolled 
heavily  and  loudly. 

Colonna  started. 

"  Great  Tribune,"  said  he,  with  a  slight  sneer, 
"  deign  to  pause  ere  it  be  too  late.  I  know  not  that 
I  ever  before  bent  to  you  a  suppliant ;  and  I  ask  you 
now  to  spare  mine  own  foe.  Stephen  Colonna  prays 
Cola  di  Rienzi  to  spare  the  life  of  an  Orsini." 

"  I  understand  thy  taunt,  old  Lord,"  said  Rienzi, 
calmly,  "  but  I  resent  it  not.  You  are  foe  to  the 
Orsini,  yet  you  plead  for  him — it  sounds  generous; 
but  hark  you, — you  are  more  a  friend  to  your  order 
than  a  foe  to  your  rival.  You  cannot  bear  that  one, 
great  enough  to  have  contended  with  you,  should  per- 
ish like  a  thief.  I  give  full  praise  to  such  noble  for- 
giveness ;  but  I  am  no  noble,  and  I  do  not  sympathise 
with  it.  One  word  more ; — if  this  were  the  sole  act 


260  RIENZI 

of  fraud  and  violence  that  this  bandit  baron  had  com- 
mitted, your  prayers  should  plead  for  him ;  but  is  not 
his  life  notorious?  Has  he  not  been  from  boyhood 
the  terror  and  disgrace  of  Rome !  How  many  ma- 
trons violated,  merchants  pillaged,  peaceful  men  stilet- 
toed  in  the  daylight,  rise  in  dark  witness  against  the 
prisoner?  And  for  such  a  man  do  I  live  to  hear  an 
aged  prince  and  a  pope's  vicar  plead  for  mercy  ? — Fie, 
fie !  But  I  will  be  even  with  ye.  The  next  poor  man 
whom  the  law  sentences  to  death,  for  your  sake  will  I 
pardon." 

Raimond  again  drew  aside  the  Tribune,  while  Colon- 
na  struggled  to  suppress  his  rage. 

"  My  friend,"  said  the  Bishop,  "  the  nobles  will  feel 
this  as  an  insult  to  their  whole  order;  the  very  plead- 
ing of  Orsini's  worst  foe  must  convince  thee  of  this. 
Martino's  blood  will  seal  their  reconciliation  with  each 
other,  and  they  will  be  as  one  man  against  thee." 

"  Be  it  so :  with  God  and  the  People  on  my  side,  I 
will  dare,  though  a  Roman,  to  be  just.  The  bell  ceases 
— you  are  already  too  late."  So  saying,  Rienzi  threw 
open  the  casement;  and  by  the.  Staircase  of  the  Lion 
rose  a  gibbet  from  which  swung  with  a  creaking 
sound,  arrayed  in  his  patrician  robes,  the  yet  palpi- 
tating corpse  of  Martino  di  Porto. 

"  Behold !  "  said  the  Tribune,  sternly,  "  thus  die  all 
robbers.  For  traitors,  the  same  law  has  the  axe  and 
the  scaffold !  " 

Raimond  drew  back  and  turned  pale.  Not  so  the 
veteran  noble.  Tears  of  wounded  pride  started  from 
his  eyes ;  he  approached,  leaning  on  his  staff,  to  Rienzi, 
touched  him  on  his  shoulder,  and  said, — 

"  Tribune,  a  judge  has  lived  to  envy  his  victim !  " 

Rienzi  turned  with  an  equal  pride  to  the  Baron. 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES        261 

"  We  forgive  idle  words  in  the  aged.  My  Lord, 
have  you  done  with  us  ? — we  would  be  alone." 

"  Give  me  thy  arm,  Raimond,"  said  Stephen. 
"  Tribune — farewell.  Forget  that  the  Colonna  sued 
thee, — an  easy  task,  methinks ;  for,  wise  as  you  are, 
you  forget  what  every  one  else  can  remember." 

"  Ah,  my  Lord,  what  ?  " 

"  Birth,  Tribune,  birth— that's  all !  " 

"  The  Signer  Colonna  has  taken  up  my  old  calling, 
and  turned  a  wit,"  returned  Rienzi,  with  an  indifferent 
and  easy  tone. 

Then  following  Raimond  and  Stephen  with  his  eyes, 
till  the  door  closed  upon  them,  he  muttered,  "  Insolent ! 
were  it  not  for  Adrian,  thy  gray  beard  should  not  bear 
thee  harmless.  Birth !  what  Colonna  would  not  boast 
himself,  if  he  could,  the  grandson  of  an  emperor? — 
Old  man,  there  is  danger  in  thee  which  must  be 
watched."  With  that  he  turned  musingly  towards  the 
casement,  and  again  that  grisly  spectacle  of  death  met 
his  eye.  The  people  below,  assembled  in  large  con- 
course, rejoiced  at  the  execution  of  one  whose  whole 
life  had  been  infamy  and  rapine — but  who  had  seemed 
beyond  justice — with  all  the  fierce  clamour  that  marks 
the  exultation  of  the  rabble  over  a  crushed  foe.  And 
where  Rienzi  stood,  he  heard  their  shouts  of  "  Long 
live  the  Tribune,  the  just  judge,  Rome's  liberator !  " 
But  at  that  time  other  thoughts  deafened  his  senses  to 
the  popular  enthusiasm. 

"  My  poor  brother !  "  he  said,  with  tears  in  his  eyes, 
"  it  was  owing  to  this  man's  crimes — and  to  a  crime 
almost  similar  to  that  for  which  he  has  now  suffered 
— that  thou  wert  entrained  to  the  slaughter ;  and  they 
who  had  no  pity  for  the  lamb,  clamour  for  compassion 
to  the  wolf !  Ah,  wert  thou  living  now,  how  these 


262  RIENZI 

proud  heads  would  bend  to  thee ;  though  dead,  thou 
wert  not  worthy  of  a  thought.  God  rest  thy  gentle 
soul,  and  keep  my  ambition  pure  as  it  was  when  we 
walked  at  twilight,  side  by  side  together !  " 

The  Tribune  shut  the  casement,  and  turning  away, 
sought  the  chamber  of  Nina.  On  hearing  his  step 
without,  she  had  already  risen  from  the  couch,  her 
eyes  sparkling,  her  bosom  heaving ;  and  as  he  entered, 
she  threw  herself  on  his  neck,  and  murmured  as  she 
nestled  to  his  breast, — "  Ah,  the  hours  since  we 
parted !  " 

It  was  a  singular  thing  to  see  that  proud  lady,  proud 
of  her  beauty,  her  station,  her  new  honours; — whose 
gorgeous  vanity  was  already  the  talk  of  Rome,  and 
the  reproach  to  Rienzi, — how  suddenly  and  mirac- 
ulously she  seemed  changed  in  his  presence !  Blush- 
ing and  timid,  all  pride  in  herself  seemed  merged  in 
her  proud  love  for  him.  No  woman  ever  loved  to  the 
full  extent  of  the  passion,  who  did  not  venerate  where 
she  loved,  and  who  did  not  feel  humbled  (delighted 
in  that  humility)  by  her  exaggerated  and  overweening 
estimate  of  the  superiority  of  the  object  of  her  worship. 

And  it  might  be  the  consciousness  of  this  distinction 
between  himself  and  all  other  created  things,  which  * 
continued  to  increase  the  love  of  the  Tribune  to  his 
bride,  to  blind  him  to  her  failings  towards  others,  and 
to  indulge  her  in  a  magnificence  of  parade,  which, 
though  to  a  certain  point  politic  to  assume,  was  car- 
ried to  an  extent  which,  if  it  did  not  conspire  to  pro- 
duce his  downfall,  has  served  the  Romans  with  an 
excuse  for  their  own  cowardice  and  desertion,  and  his- 
torians with  a  plausible  explanation  of  causes  they  had 
not  the  industry  to  fathom.  Rienzi  returned  his  wife's 
caresses  with  an  equal  affection,  and  bending  down  to 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES        263 

her  beautiful  face,  the  sight  was  sufficient  to  chase 
from  his  brow  the  emotions,  whether  severe  or  sad, 
which  had  lately  darkened  its  broad  expanse. 

"  Thou  has  not  been  abroad  this  morning,  Nina ! " 

"  No,  the  heat  was  oppressive.  But  nevertheless, 
Cola,  I  have  not  lacked  company — half  the  matronage 
of  Rome  has  crowded  the  palace." 

"  Ah,  I  warrant  it. — But  yon  boy,  is  he  -not  a  new 
face?" 

"  Hush,  Cola,  speak  to  him  kindly,  I  entreat :  of  his 
story  anon.  Angelo,  approach.  You  see  your  new 
master,  the  Tribune  of  Rome." 

Angelo  approached  with  a  timidity  not  his  wont,  for 
an  air  of  majesty  was  at  all  times  natural  to  Rienzi, 
and  since  his  power  it  had  naturally  taken  a  graver 
and  austerer  aspect,  which  impressed  those  who  ap- 
proached him,  even  the  ambassadors  of  princes,  with 
a  certain  involuntary  awe.  The  Tribune  smiled  at  the 
effect  he  saw  he  had  produced,  and  being  by  temper 
fond  of  children,  and  affable  to  all  but  the  great,  he 
hastened  to  dispel  it.  He  took  the  child  affectionately 
in  his  arms,  kissed  him,  and  bade  him  welcome. 

"  May  we  have  a  son  as  fair !  "  he  whispered  to  Nina, 
who  blushed,  and  turned  away. 

"  Thy  name,  my  little  friend?  " 

"  Angelo  Villani." 

"  A  Tuscan  name.  There  is  a  man  of  letters  at 
Florence,  doubtless  writing  our  annals  from  hearsay 
at  this  moment,  called  Villani.  Perhaps  akin  to  thee  ?  " 

"  I  have  no  kin,"  said  the  boy,  bluntly  ;  "  and  there- 
fore I  shall  the  better  love  the  Signora  and  honour 
you,  if  you  will  let  me.  I  am  Roman — all  the  Roman 
boys  honour  Rienzi." 

"  Do  they,  my  brave  lad  ?  "  said  the  Tribune,  col- 


264  RIENZI 

curing  with  pleasure ;  "  that  is  a  good  omen  of  my 
continued  prosperity."  He  put  down  the  boy,  and 
threw  himself  on  the  cushions,  while  Nina  placed  her- 
self on  a  kind  of  low  stool  beside  him. 

"  Let  us  be  alone,"  said  he ;  and  Nina  motioned  to 
the  attendant  maidens  to  withdraw. 

"  Take  my  new  page  with  you,"  said  she ;  "  he  is 
yet,  perhaps,  too  fresh  from  home  to  enjoy  the  com- 
pany of  his  giddy  brethren." 

When  they  were  alone,  Nina  proceeded  to  narrate 
to  Rienzi  the  adventure  of  the  morning;  but  though 
he  seemed  outwardly  to  listen,  his  gaze  was  on  va- 
cancy, and  he  was  evidently  abstracted  and  self-ab- 
sorbed. At  length,  as  she  concluded,  he  said,  "  Well, 
Nina,  you  have  acted  as  ever,  kindly  and  nobly.  Let 
us  to  other  themes.  I  am  in  danger." 

"  Danger !  "  echoed  Nina,  turning  pale. 

"  Why,  the  word  must  not  appal  you — you  have  a 
spirit  like  mine,  that  scorns  fear;  and,  for  that  reason, 
Nina,  in  all  Rome  you  are  my  only  confidante.  It  was 
not  only  to  glad  me  with  thy  beauty,  but  to  cheer  me 
with  thy  counsel,  to  support  me  with  thy  valour,  that 
Heaven  gave  me  thee  as  a  helpmate." 

"  Now,  our  Lady  bless  thee  for  those  words !  "  said 
Nina,  kissing  the  hand  that  hung  over  her  shoulder; 
"and  if  I  started  at  the  word  danger,  it  was  but  the 
woman's  thought  of  thee, — an  unworthy  thought,  my 
Cola,  for  glory  and  danger  go  together.  And  I  am 
as  ready  to  share  the  last  as  the  first.  If  the  hour  of 
trial  ever  come,  none  of  thy  friends  shall  be  so  faithful 
to  thy  side  as  this  weak  form  but  undaunted  heart." 

"  I  know  it,  my  own  Nina ;  I  know  it,"  said  Rienzi, 
rising,  and  pacing  the  chamber  with  large  and  rapid 
strides.  "  Now  listen  to  me.  Thou  knowest  that  to 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES        265 

govern  in  safety,  it  is  my  policy  as  my  pride  to  govern 
justly.  To  govern  justly  is  an  awful  thing,  when 
mighty  barons  are  the  culprits.  Nina,  for  an  open 
and  audacious  robbery,  our  court  has  sentenced  Mar- 
tin of  the  Orsini,  the  Lord  of  Porto,  to  death.  His 
corse  swings  now  on  the  Staircase  of  the  Lion." 

"  A  dreadful  doom !  "  said  Nina,  shuddering. 

"  True ;  but  by  his  death  thousands  of  poor  and 
honest  men  may  live  in  peace.  It  is  not  that  which 
troubles  me :  the  Barons  resent  the  deed,  as  an  insult 
to  them  that  law  should  touch  a  noble.  They  will  rise 
— they  will  rebel.  I  foresee  the  storm — not  the  spell 
to  allay  it." 

Nina  paused  a  moment, — "  They  have  taken,"  she 
then  said,  "  a  solemn  oath  on  the  Eucharist  not  to  bear 
>arms  against  thee." 

"  Perjury  is  a  light  addition  to  theft  and  murder," 
answered  Rienzi,  with  his  sarcastic  smile. 

"  But  the  people  are  faithful." 

"  Yes,  but  in  a  civil  war  (which  the  saints  fore- 
fend  !)  those  combatants  are  the  stanchest  who  have 
no  home  but  their  armour,  no  calling  but  the  sword. 
The  trader  will  not  leave  his  trade  at  the  toll  of  a  bell 
every  day;  but  the  Baron's  soldiery  are  ready  at  all 
hours." 

"  To  be  strong,"  said  Nina, — who  summoned  to  the 
councils  of  her  lord,  shewed  an  intellect  not  unworthy 
of  the  honour, — "  to  be  strong  in  dangerous  times, 
authority  must  seem  strong.  By  shewing  no  fear,  you 
may  prevent  the  cause  of  fear." 

"  My  own  thought ! "  returned  Rienzi,  quickly. 
"  You  know  that  half  my  power  with  these  Barons  is 
drawn  from  the  homage  rendered  to  me  by  foreign 
states.  When  from  every  city  in  Italy  the  ambas- 


266  RIENZI 

sadors  of  crowned  princes  seek  the  alliance  of  the 
Tribune,  they  must  veil  their  resentment  at  the  rise  of 
the  Plebeian.  On  the  other  hand,  to  be  strong  abroad 
I  must  seem  strong  at  home :  the  vast  design  I  have 
planned,  and,  as  by  a  miracle,  begun  to  execute,  will 
fail  at  once  if  it  seem  abroad  to  be  intrusted  to  an  un- 
steady and  fluctuating  power.  That  design "  (con- 
tinued Rienzi,  pausing,  and  placing  his  hand  on  a 
marble  bust  of  the  young  Augustus)  "  is  greater  than 
his,  whose  profound  yet  icy  soul  united  Italy  in  sub- 
jection,— for  it  would  unite  Italy  in  freedom ; — yes ! 
could  we  but  form  one  great  federative  league  of  all 
the  States  of  Italy,  each  governed  by  its  own  laws,  but 
united  for  mutual  and  common  protection  against  the 
Attilas  of  the  North,  with  Rome  for  their  Metropolis 
and  their  Mother,  this  age  and  this  brain  would  have, 
wrought  an  enterprise  which  men  should  quote  till  the 
sound  of  the  last  trump  !  " 

"  I  know  thy  divine  scheme,"  said  Nina,  catching 
his  enthusiasm ;  "  and  what  if  there  be  danger  in  at- 
taining it  ?  Have  we  not  mastered  the  greatest  danger 
in  the  first  step  ?  " 

"  Right,  Nina,  right !  Heaven  "  (and  the  Tribune, 
who  ever  recognised,  in  his  own  fortunes,  the  agency 
of  the  hand  above,  crossed  himself  reverently)  "  will 
preserve  him  to  whom  it  hath  vouchsafed  such  lofty 
visions  of  the  future  redemption  of  the  Land  of  the  true 
Church,  and  the  liberty  and  advancement  of  its  chil- 
dren !  This  I  trust :  already  many  of  the  cities  of  Tus- 
cany have  entered  into  treaties  for  the  formation  of  this 
league;  nor  from  a  single  tyrant,  save  John  di  Vico, 
have  I  received  aught  but  fair  words  and  flattering 
promises.  The  time  seems  ripe  for  the  grand  stroke 
of  all." 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES        267 
"And   what   is   that?"    demanded    Nina,   wonder- 


"  Defiance  to  all  foreign  interference.  By  what 
right  does  a  synod  of  stranger  princes  give  Rome  a 
king  in  some  Teuton  Emperor?  Rome's  people  alone 
should  choose  Rome's  governor;  —  and  shall  we  cross 
the  Alps  to  render  the  title  of  our  master  to  the  de- 
scendants of  the  Goth  ?  " 

Nina  was  silent  :  the  custom  of  choosing  the  sov- 
ereign by  a  diet  beyond  the  Rhine,  reserving  only  the 
ceremony  of  his  subsequent  coronation  for  the  mock 
assent  of  the  Romans,  however  degrading  to  that 
people,  and  however  hostile  to  all  notions  of  sub- 
stantial independence,  was  so  unquestioned  at  that 
time,  that  Rienzi's  daring  suggestion  left  her  amazed 
and  breathless,  prepared  as  she  was  for  any  scheme, 
however  extravagantly  bold. 

"  How  !  "  said  she,  after  a  long  pause  ;  "  do  I  under- 
stand aright?  Can  you  mean  defiance  to  the  Em- 
peror? " 

"  Why,  listen  :  at  this  moment  there  are  two  pre- 
tenders to  the  throne  of  Rome  —  to  the  imperial  crown 
of  Italy  —  a  Bohemian  and  a  Bavarian.  To  their  elec- 
tion our  assent  —  Rome's  assent  —  is  not  requisite  —  not 
asked.  Can  we  be  called  free  —  can  we  boast  our- 
selves republican  —  when  a  stranger  and  a  barbarian 
is  thus  thrust  upon  our  necks  ?  No,  we  will  be  free  in 
reality  as  in  name.  Besides,"  (continued  the  Tribune, 
in  a  calmer  tone,)  "  this  seems  to  me  politic  as  well 
as  daring.  The  people  incessantly  demand  wonders 
from  me  :  how  can  I  more  nobly  dazzle,  more  virtu- 
ously win  them,  than  by  asserting  their  inalienable 
right  to  choose  their  own  rulers?  The  daring  will 
awe  the  Barons,  and  foreigners  themselves  ;  it  will  give 


268  RIENZI 

a  startling  example  to  all  Italy;  it  will  be  the  first 
brand  of  an  universal  blaze.  It  shall  be  done,  and 
with  a  pomp  that  befits  the  deed !  " 

"  Cola,"  said  Nina,  hesitatingly,  "  your  eagle  spirit 
often  ascends  where  mine  flags  to  follow ;  yet  be  not 
over  bold." 

"  Nay,  did  you  not,  a  moment  since,  preach  a  dif- 
ferent doctrine?  To  be  strong,  was  I  not  to  seem 
strong?" 

"  May  fate  preserve  you !  "  said  Nina,  with  a  fore- 
boding sigh. 

"  Fate !  "  cried  Rienzi ;  "  there  is  no  fate !  Between 
the  thought  and  the  success,  God  is  the  only  agent; 
and  "  (he  added  with  a  voice  of  deep  solemnity)  "  I 
shall  not  be  deserted.  Visions  by  night,  even  while 
thine  arms  are  around  me ;  omens  and  impulses,  stir- 
ring and  divine,  by  day,  even  in  the  midst  of  the  living 
crowd — encourage  my  path,  and  point  my  goal.  Now, 
even  now,  a  voice  seems  to  whisper  in  my  ear — '  Pause 
not ;  tremble  not ;  waver  not ; — for  the  eye  of  the  All- 
Seeing  is  upon  thee,  and  the  hand  of  the  All-Powerful 
shall  protect ! '  " 

As  Rienzi  thus  spoke,  his  face  grew  pale,  his  hair 
seemed  to  bristle,  his  tall  and  proud  form  trembled 
visibly,  and  presently  he  sunk  down  on  a  seat,  and 
covered  his  face  with  his  hands. 

An  awe  crept  over  Nina,  though  not  unaccustomed 
to  such  strange  and  preternatural  emotions,  which  ap- 
peared yet  the  more  singular  in  one  who  in  common 
life  was  so  calm,  stately,  and  self-possessed.  But  with 
every  increase  of  prosperity  and  power,  those  emo- 
tions seemed  to  increase  in  their  fervour,  as  if  in  such 
increase  the  devout  and  overwrought  superstition  of 
the  Tribune  recognised  additional  proof  of  a  myste- 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES        269 

rious  guardianship  mightier  than  the  valour  or  art  of 
man. 

She  approached  fearfully,  and  threw  her  arms 
around  him,  but  without  speaking. 

Ere  yet  the  Tribune  had  well  recovered  himself,  a 
slight  tap  at  the  door  was  heard,  and  the  sound  seemed 
at  once  to  recall  his  self-possession. 

"  Enter,"  he  said,  lifting  his  face,  to  which  the 
wonted  colour  slowly  returned. 

An  officer,  half-opening  the  door,  announced  that 
the  person  he  had  sent  for  waited  his  leisure. 

"  I  come ! — Core  of  my  heart,"  (he  whispered  to 
Nina,)  "  we  will  sup  alone  to-night,  and  will  converse 
more  on  these  matters :  "  so  saying,  with  somewhat 
less  than  his  usual  loftiness. of  mien,  he  left  the  room, 
and  sought  his  cabinet,  which  lay  at  the  other  side  of 
the  reception  chamber.  Here  he  found  Cecco  del 
Vecchio. 

"  How,  my  bold  fellow,"  said  the  Tribune,  assuming 
with  wonderful  ease  that  air  of  friendly  equality  which 
he  always  adopted  with  those  of  the  lower  class,  and 
which  made  a  striking  contrast  with  the  majesty,  no 
less  natural,  which  marked  his  manner  to  the  great. 
"  How  now,  my  Cecco !  Thou  bearest  thyself  bravely, 
I  see,  during  these  sickly  heats;  we  labourers — for 
both  of  us  labour,  Cecco — are  too  busy  to  fall  ill  as  the 
idle  do,  in  the  summer,  or  the  autumn,  of  Roman  skies. 
I  sent  for  thee,  Cecco,  because  I  would  know  how  thy 
fellow-craftsmen  are  like  to  take  the  Orsini's  execu- 
tion." 

"  Oh !  Tribune,"  replied  the  artificer,  who,  now 
familiarised  with  Rienzi,  had  lost  much  of  his  earlier 
awe  of  him,  and  who  regarded  the  Tribune's  power  as 
partly  his  own  creation ;  "  they  are  already  out  of  their 


270  RIENZI 

honest  wits,  at  your  courage  in  punishing  the  great 
men  as  you  would  the  small." 

"  So ; — I  am  repaid !  But  hark  you,  Cecco,  it  will 
bring,  perhaps,  hot  work  upon  us.  Every  Baron  will 
dread  lest  it  be  his  turn  next,"  and  dread  will  make 
them  bold,  like  rats  in  despair.  We  may  have  to  fight 
for  the  Good  Estate." 

"  With  all  my  heart,  Tribune,"  answered  Cecco, 
gruffly.  "  I,  for  one,  am  no  craven." 

"  Then  keep  the  same  spirit  in  all  your  meetings 
with  the  artificers.  I  fight  for  the  people.  The 
people  at  a  pinch  must  fight  with  me." 

"  They  will,"  replied  Cecco ;  "  they  will !  " 

"  Cecco,  this  city  is  under  the  spiritual  dominion  of 
the  Pontiff — so  be  it — it  is  an  honour,  not  a  burthen. 
But  the  temporal  dominion,  my  friend,  should  be  with 
Romans  only.  Is  it  not  a  disgrace  to  Republican 
Rome,  that  while  we  now  speak,  certain  barbarians, 
whom  we  never  heard  of,  should  be  deciding  beyond 
the  Alps  on  the  merits  of  two  sovereigns  whom  we 
never  saw?  Is  not  this  a  thing  to  be  resisted?  An 
Italian  city, — what  hath  it  to  do  with  a  Bohemian  Em- 
peror ?  " 

"  Little  eno',  St.  Paul  knows !  "  said  Cecco. 

"  Should  it  not  be  a  claim  questioned  ?  " 

"  I  think  so !  "  replied  the  smith. 

"  And  if  found  an  outrage  on  our  ancient  laws, 
should  it  not  be  a  claim  resisted  ?  " 

"  Not  a  doubt  of  it." 

"  Well,  go  to !  The  archives  assure  me  that  never 
was  Emperor  lawfully  crowned  but  by  the  free  votes 
of  the  people.  We  never  chose  Bohemian  or  Bava- 
rian." 

"  But,  on  the  contrary,  whenever  these  Northmen 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES        271 

come  hither  to  be  crowned,  we  try  to  drive  them  away 
with  stones  and  curses, — for  we  are  a  people,  Tribune, 
that  love  our  liberties." 

"  Go  back  to  your  friends — see — address  them,  say 
that  your  Tribune  will  demand  of  these  pretenders  to 
Rome  the  right  to  her  throne.  Let  them  not  be 
mazed  or  startled,  but  support  me  when  the  occasion 
comes." 

"  I  am  glad  of  this,"  quoth  the  huge  smith ;  "  for 
our  friends  have  grown  a  little  unruly  of  late,  and 
say " 

"  What  do  they  say  ?  " 

"  That  it  is  true  you  have  expelled  the  ban- 
ditti, and  curb  the  Barons,  and  administer  justice 
fairly ;— " 

"  Is  not  that  miracle  enough  for  the  space  of  some 
two  or  three  short  months  ?  " 

"  Why,  they  say  it  would  have  been  more  than 
enough  in  a  noble ;  but  you,  being  raised  from  the 
people,  and  having  such  gifts  and  so  forth,  might  do 
yet  more.  It  is  now  three  weeks  since  they  have  had 
any  new  thing  to  talk  about ;  but  Orsini's  execution 
to-day  will  cheer  them  a  bit." 

"  Well,  Cecco,  well,"  said  the  Tribune,  rising,  "  they 
shall  have  more  anon  to  feed  their  mouths  with.  So 
you  think  they  love  me  not  quite  so  well  as  they  did 
some  three  weeks  back?  " 

"  I  say  not  so,"  answered  Cecco.  "  But  we  Romans 
are  an  impatient  people." 

"  Alas,  yes  !  " 

"  However,  they  will  no  doubt  stick  close  enough  to 
you ;  provided,  Tribune,  you  don't  put  any  new  tax 
upon  them." 

"  Ha !     But  if,  in  order  to  be  free,  it  be  necessary  to 


2/2  RIENZI 

fight — if  to  fight,  it  be  necessary  to  have  soldiers,  why 
then  the  soldiers  must  be  paid : — won't  the  people  con- 
tribute something  to  their  own  liberties; — to  just  laws, 
and  safe  lives  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know,"  returned  the  smith,  scratching  his 
head  as  if  a  little  puzzled ;  "  but  I  know  that  poor  men 
won't  be  overtaxed.  They  say  they  are  better  off  with 
you  than  with  the  Barons  before,  and  therefore  they 
love  you.  But  men  in  business,  Tribune,  poor  men 
with  families,  must  look  to  their  bellies.  Only  one 
man  in  ten  goes  to  law — only  one  man  in  twenty  is 
butchered  by  a  Baron's  brigand ;  but  every  man  eats, 
and  drinks,  and  feels  a  tax." 

"  This  cannot  be  your  reasoning,  Cecco ! "  said 
Rienzi,  gravely. 

"  Why,  Tribune,  I  am  an  honest  man,  but  I  have  a 
large  family  to  rear." 

"  Enough  ;  enough !  "  said  the  Tribune  quickly  ;  and 
then  he  added  abstractedly  as  to  himself,  but  aloud, — 
"  Methinks  we  have  been  too  lavish ;  these  shows  and 
spectacles  should  cease." 

"  What !  "  cried  Cecco ;  "  what,  Tribune  ! — would 
you  deny  the  poor  fellows  a  holiday.  They  work  hard 
enough,  and  their  only  pleasure  is  seeing  your  fine 
shows  and  processions ;  and  then  they  go  home  and 
say, — '  See,  our  man  beats  all  the  Barons !  what  state 
he  keeps ! ' ' 

"  Ah  !  they  blame  not  my  splendour,  then !  " 

"  Blame  it ;  no !  Without  it  they  would  be  ashamed 
of  you,  and  think  the  Buono  Stato  but  a  shabby  con- 
cern." 

"  You  speak  bluntly,  Cecco,  but  perhaps  wisely. 
The  saints  keep  you!  Fail  not  to  remember  what  I 
told  you !  " 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES        273 

"  No,  no.  It  is  a  shame  to  have  an  Emperor  thrust 
upon  us ; — so  it  is.  Good  evening,  Tribune." 

Left  alone,  the  Tribune  remained  for  some  time 
plunged  in  gloomy  and  foreboding  thoughts. 

"  I  am  in  the  midst  of  a  magician's  spell,"  said  he ; 
"  if  I  desist,  the  fiends  tear  me  to  pieces.  What  I  have 
begun,  that  must  I  conclude.  But  this  rude  man 
shews  me  too  well  with  what  tools  I  work.  For  me 
failure  is  nothing.  I  have  already  climbed  to  a  great- 
ness which  might  render  giddy  many  a  born  prince's 
brain.  But  with  my  fall — Rome,  Italy,  Peace,  Justice, 
Civilisation — all  fall  back  into  the  abyss  of  ages !  " 

He  rose;  and  after  once  or  twice  pacing  his  apart- 
ment, in  which  from  many  a  column  gleamed  upon 
him  the  marble  effigies  of  the  great  of  old,  he  opened 
the  casement  to  inhale  the  air  of  the  now  declining 
day. 

The  Place  of  the  Capitol  was  deserted  save  by  the 
tread  of  the  single  sentinel.  But  still,  dark  and  fear- 
ful, hung  from  the  tall  gibbet  the  clay  of  the  robber 
noble ;  and  the  colossal  shape  of  the  Egyptian  lion  rose 
hard  by,  sharp  and  dark  in  the  breathless  atmosphere. 

"  Dread  statue !  "  thought  Rienzi,  "  how  many  un- 
whispered  and  solemn  rites  hast  thou  witnessed  by 
thy  native  Nile,  ere  the  Roman's  hand  transferred 
thee  hither — the  antique  witness  of  Roman  crimes! 
Strange !  but  when  I  look  upon  thee  I  feel  as  if  thou 
hadst  some  mystic  influence  over  my  own  fortunes. 
Beside  thee  was  I  hailed  the  republican  Lord  of  Rome ; 
beside  thee  are  my  palace,  my  tribunal,  the  place  of 
my  justice,  my  triumphs,  and  my  pomp : — to  thee  my 
eyes  turn  from  my  bed  of  state :  and  if  fated  to  die  in 
power  and  peace,  thou  mayst  be  the  last  object  my 

eyes  will  mark!  Or  if  myself  a  victim " — he 

18 


274  RIENZI 

paused — shrank  from  the  thought  presented  to  him — 
turned  to  a  recess  of  the  chamber — drew  aside  a  cur- 
tain, that  veiled  a  crucifix  and  a  small  table,  on  which 
lay  a  Bible  and  the  monastic  emblems  of  the  skull  and 
cross-bones — emblems,  indeed,  grave  and  irresistible, 
of  the  nothingness  of  power,  and  the  uncertainty  of 
life.  Before  these  sacred  monitors,  whether  to  hum- 
ble or  to  elevate,  knelt  that  proud  and  aspiring  man ; 
and  when  he  rose,  it  was  with  a  lighter  step  and  more 
cheerful  mien  than  he  had  worn  that  day. 


CHAPTER    III 

THE   ACTOR   UNMASKED 

"  In  intoxication,"  says  the  proverb,  "  men  betray 
their  real  characters."  There  is  a  no  less  honest  and 
truth-revealing  intoxication  in  prosperity,  than  in 
wine.  The  varnish  of  power  brings  forth  at  once  the 
defects  and  the  beauties  of  the  human  portrait. 

The  unprecedented  and  almost  miraculous  rise  of 
Rienzi  from  the  rank  of  the  Pontiff's  official  to  the 
Lord  of  Rome,  would  have  been  accompanied  with 
a  yet  greater  miracle,  if  it  had  not  somewhat  dazzled 
and  seduced  the  object  it  elevated.  When,  as  in  well- 
ordered  states  and  tranquil  times,  men  rise  slowly,  step 
by  step,  they  accustom  themselves  to  their  growing 
fortunes.  But  the  leap  of  an  hour  from  a  citizen  to  a 
prince — from  the  victim  of  oppression  to  the  dispenser 
of  justice — is  a  transition  so  sudden  as  to  render  dizzy 
the  most  sober  brain.  And,  perhaps,  in  proportion  to 
the  imagination,  the  enthusiasm,  the  genius  of  the 
man,  will  the  suddenness  be  dangerous— excite  too 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES        275 

extravagant  a  hope — and  lead  to  too  chimerical  an 
ambition.  The  qualities  that  made  him  rise,  hurry 
him  to  his  fall ;  and  victory  at  the  Marengo  of  his  for- 
tunes, urges  him  to  destruction  at  its  Moscow. 

In  his  greatness  Rienzi  did  not  so  much  acquire 
new  qualities,  as  develop  in  brighter  light  and  deeper 
shadow  those  which  he  had  always  exhibited.  On 
the  one  hand  he  was  just — resolute — the  friend  of  the 
oppressed — the  terror  of  the  oppressor.  His  wonder- 
ful intellect  illumined  everything  it  touched.  By  root- 
ing out  abuse,  and  by  searching  examination  and  wise 
arrangement,  he  had  trebled  the  revenues  of  the  city 
without  imposing  a  single  new  tax.  Faithful  to  his 
idol  of  liberty,  he  had  not  been  betrayed  by  the  wish 
of  the  people  into  despotic  authority ;  but  had,  as  we 
have  seen,  formally  revived,  and  established  with  new 
powers,  the  Parliamentary  Council  of  the  city.  How- 
ever extensive  his  own  authority,  he  referred  its  exer- 
cise to  the  people ;  in  their  name  he  alone  declared 
himself  to  govern,  and  he  never  executed  any  signal 
action  without  submitting  to  them  its  reasons  or  its 
justification.  No  less  faithful  to  his  desire  to  restore 
prosperity  as  well  as  freedom  to  Rome,  he  had  seized 
the  first  dazzling  epoch  of  his  power  to  propose  that 
great  federative  league  with  the  Italian  States  which 
would,  as  he  rightly  said,  have  raised  Rome  to  the 
indisputable  head  of  European  nations.  Under  his 
rule  trade  was  secure,  literature  was  welcome,  art  be- 
gan to  rise. 

On  the  other  hand,  the  prosperity  which  made  more 
apparent  his  justice,  his  integrity,  his  patriotism,  his 
virtues,  and  his  genius,  brought  out  no  less  glaringly 
his  arrogant  consciousness  of  superiority,  his  love  of 
display,  and  the  wild  and  daring  insolence  of  his  am- 


276  RIENZI 

bition.  Though  too  just  to  avenge  himself  by  retal- 
iating on  the  patricians  their  own  violence,  though,  in 
his  troubled  and  stormy  tribuneship,  not  one  unmer- 
ited or  illegal  execution  of  baron  or  citizen  could  be 
alleged  against  him,  even  by  his  enemies ;  yet  sharing, 
less  excusably,  the  weakness  of  Nina,  he  could  not 
deny  his  proud  heart  the  pleasure  of  humiliating  those 
who  had  ridiculed  him  as  a  buffoon,  despised  him  as  a 
plebeian,  and  who,  even  now  slaves  to  his  face,  were 
cynics  behind  his  back.  "  They  stood  before  him 
while  he  sate,"  says  his  biographer :  "  all  these  Barons, 
bareheaded;  their  hands  crossed  on  their  breasts; 
their  looks  downcast; — oh,  how  frightened  they 
were !  "  a  picture  more  disgraceful  to  the  servile  cow- 
ardice of  the  nobles  than  the  haughty  sternness  of  the 
Tribune.  It  might  be  that  he  deemed  it  policy"%to 
break  the  spirit  of  his  foes,  and  to  awe  those  whom  it 
was  a  vain  hope  to  conciliate. 

For  his  pomp  there  was  a  greater  excuse :  it  was 
the  custom  of  the  time;  it  was  the  insignia  and  wit- 
ness of  power ;  and  when  the  modern  historian  taunts 
him  with  not  imitating  the  simplicity  of  an  ancient 
tribune,  the  sneer  betrays  an  ignorance  of  the  spirit 
of  the  age,  and  the  vain  people  whom  the  chief  magis- 
trate was  to  govern.  No  doubt  his  gorgeous  festivals, 
his  solemn  processions,  set  off  and  ennobled — if 
parade  can  so  be  ennobled — by  a  refined  and  magnifi- 
cent richness  of  imagination,  associated  always  with 
popular  emblems,  and  designed  to  convey  the  idea  of 
rejoicing  for  Liberty  Restored,  and  to  assert  the  state 
and  majesty  of  Rome  Revived — no  doubt  these  spec- 
tacles, however  otherwise  judged  in  a  more  enlight- 
ened age  and  by  closest  sages,  served  greatly  to  aug- 
ment the  importance  of  the  Tribune  abroad,  and  to 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES        277 

dazzle  the  pride  of  a  fickle  and  ostentatious  populace. 
And  taste  grew  refined,  luxury  called  labour  into 
requisition,  and  foreigners  from  all  states  were  at- 
tracted by  the  splendour  of  a  court  over  which  pre- 
sided, under  republican  names,  two  sovereigns,*  young 
and  brilliant,  the  one  renowned  for  his  genius,  the 
other  eminent  for  her  beauty.  It  was,  indeed,  a 
dazzling  and  royal  dream  in  the  long  night  of  Rome, 
spoiled  of  her  Pontiff  and  his  voluptuous  train — that 
holyday  reign  of  Cola  di  Rienzi !  And  often  after- 
wards it  was  recalled  with  a  sigh,  not  only  by  the  poor 
for  its  justice,  the  merchant  for  its  security,  but  the 
gallant  for  its  splendour,  and  the  poet  for  its  ideal  and 
intellectual  grace ! 

As  if  to  show  that  it  was  not  to  gratify  the  more 
vulgar  appetite  and  desire,  in  the  midst  of  all  his  pomp, 
when  the  board  groaned  with  the  delicacies  of  every 
clime,  when  the  wine  most  freely  circled,  the  Tribune 
himself  preserved  a  temperate  and  even  rigid  ab- 
stinence, f  While  the  apartments  of  state  and  the 
chamber  of  his  bride  were  adorned  with  a  profuse  lux- 
ury and  cost,  to  his  own  private  rooms  he  transported 
precisely  the  same  furniture  which  had  been  familiar 

*  Rienzi,  speaking  in  one  of  his  letters  of  his  great  enter- 
prise, refers  it  to  the  ardour  of  youth.  The  exact  date  of  his 
birth  is  unknown;  but  he  was  certainly  a  young  man  at  the 
time  now  referred  to.  His  portrait  in  the  Museo  Barberino, 
from  which  his  description  has  been  already  taken  in  the  first 
book  of  this  work,  represents  him  as  beardless,  and,  as  far  as 
one  can  judge,  somewhere  above  thirty — old  enough,  to  be 
sure,  to  have  a  beard;  and  seven  years  afterwards  he  wore  a 
long  one,  which  greatly  displeased  his  name  biographer,  who 
seems  to  consider  it  a  sort  of  crime.  The  head  is  very  re- 
markable for  its  stern  beauty,  and  little,  if  at  all,  inferior  to 
that  of  Napoleon;  to  which,  as  I  before  remarked,  it  has  some 
resemblance  in  expression,  if  not  in  feature. 

t  Vita  di  Cola  di  Rienzi. — The  biographer  praises  the  absti- 
nence of  the  Tribune. 


2;8  RIENZI 

to  him  in  his  obscurer  life.  The  books,  the  busts,  the 
reliefs,  the  arms  which  had  inspired  him  heretofore 
with  the  visions  of  the  past,  were  endeared  by  asso- 
ciations which  he  did  not  care  to  forego. 

But  that  which  constituted  the  most  singular  feature 
of  his  character,  and  which  still  wraps  all  around  him 
in  a  certain  mystery,  was  his  religious  enthusiasm. 
The  daring  but  wild  doctrines  of  Arnold  of  Brescia, 
who,  two  centuries  anterior,  had  preached  reform,  but 
inculcated  mysticism,  still  lingered  >in  Rome,  and  had 
in  earlier  youth  deeply  coloured  the  mind  of  Rienzi ; 
and  as  I  have  before  observed,  his  youthful  propen- 
sity to  dreamy  thought,  the  melancholy  death  of  his 
brother,  his  own  various  but  successful  fortunes,  had 
all  contributed  to  nurse  the  more  zealous  and  solemn 
aspirations  of  this  remarkable  man.  Like  Arnold  of 
Brescia,  his  faith  bore  a  strong  resemblance  to  the 
intense  fanaticism  of  our  own  Puritans  of  the  Civil 
War,  as  if  similar  political  circumstances  conduced  to 
similar  religious  sentiments.  He  believed  himself  in- 
spired by  awful  and  mighty  commune  with  beings  of 
the  better  world.  Saints  and  angels  ministered  to  his 
dreams ;  and  without  this,  the  more  profound  and  hal- 
lowed enthusiasm,  he  might  never  have  been  suf- 
ficiently emboldened  by  mere  human  patriotism,  to 
his  unprecedented  enterprise :  it  was  the  secret  of 
much  of  his  greatness, — many  of  his  errors.  Like  all 
men  who  are  thus  self-deluded  by  a  vain  but  not  in- 
glorious superstition,  united  with,  and  coloured  by, 
earthly  ambition,  it  is  impossible  to  say  how  far  he 
was  the  visionary,  and  how  far  at  times  he  dared  to  be 
the  impostor.  In  the  ceremonies  of  his  pageants,  in 
the  ornaments  of  his  person,  were  invariably  intro- 
duced mystic  and  figurative  emblems.  In  times  of 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES        279 

danger  he  publicly  professed  to  have  been  cheered  and 
directed  by  divine  dreams ;  and  on  many  occasions  the 
prophetic  warnings  he  announced  having  been  singu- 
larly verified  by  the  event,  his  influence  with  the  people 
was  strengthened  by  a  belief  in  the  favour  and  inter- 
course of  Heaven.  Thus,  delusion  of  self  might  tempt 
and  conduce  to  imposition  on  others,  and  he  might 
not  scruple  to  avail  himself  of  the  advantage  of  seem- 
ing what  he  believed  himself  to  be.  Yet,  no  doubt 
this  intoxicating  credulity  pushed  him  into  extrava- 
gance unworthy  of,  and  strangely  contrasted  by,  his 
soberer  intellect,  and  made  him  disproportion  his  vast 
ends  to  his  unsteady  means,  by  the  proud  fallacy, 
that  where  man  failed,  God  would  interpose.  Cola  di 
Rienzi  was  no  faultless  hero  of  romance.  In  him  lay, 
in  conflicting  prodigality,  the  richest  and  most  oppo- 
site elements  of  character;  strong  sense,  visionary 
superstition,  an  eloquence  and  energy  that  mastered 
all  he  approached,  a  blind  enthusiasm  that  mastered 
himself;  luxury  and  abstinence,  sternness  and  sus- 
ceptibility, pride  to  the  great,  humility  to  the  low ;  the 
most  devoted  patriotism  and  the  most  avid  desire  of 
personal  power.  As  few  men  undertake  great  and 
desperate  designs  without  strong  animal  spirits,  so  it 
may  be  observed,  that  with  most  who  have  risen  to 
eminence  over  the  herd,  there  is  an  aptness,  at  times, 
to  a  wild  mirth  and  an  elasticity  of  humour  which  often 
astonish  the  more  sober  and  regulated  minds,  that  are 
"  the  commoners  of  life  :  "  and  the  theatrical  grandeur 
of  Napoleon,  the  severe  dignity  of  Cromwell,  are 
strangely  contrasted  by  a  frequent,  nor  always  sea- 
sonable buffoonery,  which  it  is  hard  to  reconcile  with 
the  ideal  of  their  characters,  or  the  gloomy  and  por- 
tentous interest  of  their  careers.  And  this,  equally  a 


280  RIENZI 

trait  in  the  temperament  of  Rienzi,  distinguished  his 
hours  of  relaxation,  and  contributed  to  that  marvellous 
versatility  with  which  his  harder  nature  accommo- 
dated itself  to  all  humours  and  all  men.  Often  from 
his  austere  judgment-seat  he  passed  to  the  social 
board  an  altered  man ;  and  even  the  sullen  Barons 
who  reluctantly  attended  his  feasts,  forgot  his  public 
greatness  in  his  familiar  wit ;  albeit  this  reckless 
humour  could  not  always  refrain  from  seeking  its  sub- 
ject in  the  mortification  of  his  crest-fallen  foes — a 
pleasure  it  would  have  been  wiser  and  more  generous 
to  forego.  And  perhaps  it  was,  in  part,  the  prompting 
of  this  sarcastic  and  unbridled  humour  that  made  him 
often  love  to  astonish  as  well  as  to  awe.  But  even 
this  gaiety,  if  so  it  may  be  called,  taking  an  appear- 
ance of  familiar  frankness,  served  much  to  ingratiate 
him  with  the  lower  orders ;  and,  if  a  fault  in  the  prince, 
was  a  virtue  in  the  demagogue. 

To  these  various  characteristics,  now  fully  devel- 
oped, the  reader  must  add  a  genius  of  designs  so 
bold,  of  conceptions  so  gigantic  and  august,  conjoined 
with  that  more  minute  and  ordinary  ability  which  mas- 
ters details;  that  with  a  brave,  noble,  intelligent,  de- 
voted people  to  back  his  projects,  the  accession  of  the 
Tribune  would  have  been  the  close  of  the  thraldom 
of  Italy,  and  the  abrupt  limit  of  the  dark  age  of  Europe. 
With  such  a  people,  his  faults  would  have  been  insen- 
sibly checked,  his  more  unwholesome  power  have  re- 
ceived a  sufficient  curb.  Experience  familiarising  him 
with  power,  would  have  gradually  weaned  him  from 
extravagance  in  its  display :  and  the  active  and  mascu- 
line energy  of  his  intellect  would  have  found  field  for 
the  more  restless  spirits,  as  his  justice  gave  shelter  to 
the  more  tranquil.  Faults  he  had,  but  whether  those 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES     .  281 

faults  or  the  faults  of  the  people,  were  to  prepare  his 
downfall,  is  yet  to  be  seen. 

Meanwhile,  amidst  a  discontented  nobility  and  a 
fickle  populace,  urged  on  by  the  danger  of  repose 
to  the  danger  of  enterprise ;  partly  blinded  by  his  out- 
ward power,  partly  impelled  by  the  fear  of  internal 
weakness ;  at  once  made  sanguine  by  his  genius  and 
his  fanaticism,  and  uneasy  by  the  expectations  of  the 
crowd, — he  threw  himself  headlong  into  the  gulf  of  the 
rushing  Time,  and  surrendered  his  lofty  spirit  to  no 
other  guidance  than  a  conviction  of  its  natural  buoy- 
ancy and  its  heaven-directed  haven. 


CHAPTER   IV 
THE  ENEMY'S  CAMP 

While  Rienzi  was  preparing,  in  concert,  perhaps, 
with  the  ambassadors  of  the  brave  Tuscan  States, 
whose  pride  of  country  and  love  of  liberty  were  well 
fitted  to  comprehend,  and  even  share  them,  his 
schemes  for  the  emancipation  from  all  foreign  yoke 
of  the  Ancient  Queen,  and  the  Everlasting  Garden  of 
the  World;  the  Barons,  in  restless  secrecy,  were  re- 
volving projects  for  the  restoration  of  their  own  power. 

One  morning,  the  heads  of  the  Savelli,  the  Orsini, 
and  the  Frangipani,  met  at  the  disfortified  palace  of 
Stephen  Colonna.  Their  conference  was  warm  and 
earnest — now  resolute,  now  wavering,  in  its  object — 
as  indignation  or  fear  prevailed. 

"  You  have  heard,"  said  Luca  di  Savelli,  in  his  usual 
soft  and  womanly  voice,  "  that  the  Tribune  has  pro- 
claimed, that,  the  day  after  to-morrow,  he  will  take 


282  .  RIENZI 

the  order  of  knighthood,  and  watch  the  night  before 
in  the  church  of  the  Lateran !  He  has  honoured  me 
with  a  request  to  attend  his  vigil." 

"  Yes,  yes,  the  knave.  What  means  this  new  fan- 
tasy ?  "  said  the  brutal  Prince  of  the  Orsini. 

"  Unless  it  be  to  have  the  cavalier's  right  to  chal- 
lenge a  noble,"  said  old  Colonna,  "  I  cannot  con- 
jecture. Will  Rome  never  grow  weary  of  this  mad- 
man?" 

"  Rome  is  the  more  mad  of  the  two,"  said  Luca  di 
Savelli ;  "  but  methinks,  in  his  wildness,  the  Tribune 
hath  committed  one  error  of  which  we  may  well  avail 
ourselves  at  Avignon." 

"  Ah,"  cried  the  old  Colonna,  "  that  must  be  our 
game ;  passive  here,  let  us  fight  at  Avignon." 

"  In  a  word  then,  he  hath  ordered  that  his  bath  shall' 
be  prepared  in  the  holy  porphyry  vase  in  which  once 
bathed  the  Emperor  Constantine." 

"  Profanation  !  profanation !  "  cried  Stephen.  "  This 
is  enough  to  excuse  a  bull  of  excommunication.  The 
Pope  shall  hear  of  it.  I  will  despatch  a  courier  forth- 
with." 

"  Better  wait  and  see  the  ceremony,"  said  the  Sa- 
velli ;  "  some  greater  folly  will  close  the  pomp,  be 
assured." 

"  Hark  ye,  my  masters,"  said  the  grim  Lord  of  the 
Orsini ;  "  ye  are  for  delay  and  caution ;  I  for  prompt- 
ness and  daring ;  my  kinsman's  blood  calls  aloud,  and 
brooks  no  parley." 

"And  what  do?"  said  the  soft-voiced  Savelli; 
"  fight  without  soldiers,  against  twenty  thousand  in- 
furiated Romans?  not  I." 

Orsini  sunk  his  voice  into  a  meaning  whisper.  "  In 
Venice,"  said  he,  "  this  upstart  might  be  mastered 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES        283 

without  an  army.  Think  you  in  Rome  no  man  wears 
a  stiletto  ?  " 

"  Hush,"  said  Stephen,  who  was  of  far  nobler  and 
better  nature  than  his  compeers,  and  who,  justifying  to 
himself  all  other  resistance  to  the  Tribune,  felt  his 
conscience  rise  against  assassination ;  "  this  must  not 
be — your  zeal  transports  you." 

"  Besides,  whom  can  we  employ?  scarce  a  German 
left  in  the  city ;  and  to  whisper  this  to  a  Roman  were, 
to  exchange  places  with  poor  Martino — Heaven  take 
him,  for  he's  nearer  heaven  than  ever  he  was  before," 
said  the  Savelli. 

"  Jest  me  no  jests,"  cried  the  Orsini,  fiercely. 
"  Jests  on  such  a  subject !  By  St.  Francis  I  would, 
since  thou  lovest  such  wit,  thou  hadst  it  all  to  thyself ; 
and,  methinks,  at  the  Tribune's  board  I  have  seen  thee 
laugh  at  his  rude  humour  as  if  thou  didst  not  require 
a  cord  to  choke  thee." 

"  Better  to  laugh  than  to  tremble,"  returned  the 
Savelli. 

"  How !  darest  thou  say  I  tremble  ? "  cried  the 
Baron. 

"  Hush,  hush,"  said  the  veteran  Colonna,  with  im- 
patient dignity.  "  We  are  not  now  in  such  holiday 
times  as  to  quarrel  amongst  ourselves.  Forbear,  my 
lords." 

"  Your  greater  prudence,  Signer,"  said  the  sarcas- 
tic Savelli,  "  arises  from  your  greater  safety.  Your 
house  is  about  to  shelter  itself  under  the  Tribune's; 
and,  when  the  Lord  Adrian  returns  from  Naples,  the 
innkeeper's  son  will  be  brother  to  your  kinsman." 

"  You  might  spare  me  that  taunt,"  said  the  old 
noble,  with  some  emotion.  "  Heaven  knows  how  bit- 
terly I  have  chafed  at  the  thought ;  yet  I  would  Adrian 


284  RIENZI 

were  with  us.  His  word  goes  far  to  moderate  the 
Tribune,  and  to  guide  my  own  course,  for  my  passion 
beguiles  my  reason ;  and  since  his  departure  methinks 
we  have  been  the  more  sullen  without  being  the  more 
strong.  Let  this  pass.  If  my  own  son  had  wed  the 
Tribune's  sister,  I  would  yet  strike  a  blow  for  the  old 
constitution  as  becomes  a  noble,  if  I  but  saw  that  the 
blow  would  not  cut  off  my  own  head." 

Savelli,  who  had  been  whispering  apart  with  Rinal- 
do  Frangipani,  now  said — 

"  Noble  Prince,  listen  to  me.  You  are  bound  by 
your  kinsman's  approaching  connection,  your  vener- 
able age,  and  your  intimacy  with  the  Pontiff,  to  a 
greater  caution  than  we  are.  Leave  to  us  the  man- 
agement of  the  enterprise,  and  be  assured  of  our  dis- 
cretion." 

A  young  boy,  Stefanello,  who  aftenvards  succeeded 
to  the  representation  of  the  direct  line  of  the  Colonna, 
and  whom  the  reader  will  once  again  encounter  ere 
our  tale  be  closed,  was  playing  by  his  grandsire's 
knees.  He  looked  sharply  up  at  Savelli,  and  said, 
"  My  grandfather  is  too  wise,  and  you  are  too  timid. 
Frangipani  is  too  yielding,  and  Orsini  is  too  like  a 
vexed  bull.  I  wish  I  were  a  year  or  two  older." 

"And  what  would  you  do,  my  pretty  censurer?" 
said  the  smooth  Savelli,  biting  his  smiling  lip. 

"  Stab  the  Tribune  with  my  own  stiletto,  and  then 
hey  for  Palestrina !  " 

"  The  egg  will  hatch  a  brave  serpent,"  quoth  the 
Savelli.  "  Yet  why  so  bitter  against  the  Tribune,  my 
cockatrice  ?  " 

"  Because  he  allowed  an  insolent  mercer  to  arrest 
my  uncle  Agapet  for  debt.  The  debt  had  been  owed 
these  ten  years;  and  though  it  is  said  that  no  house 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES        285 

in  Rome  has  owed  more  money  than  the  Colonna, 
this  is  the  first  time  I  ever  heard  of  a  rascally  creditor 
being  allowed  to  claim  his  debt  unless  with  doffed  cap 
and  bended  knee.  And  I  say  that  I  would  not  live 
to  be  a  Baron,  if  such  upstart  insolence  is  to  be  put 
upon  me." 

"  My  child,"  said  old  Stephen,  laughing  heartily,  "  I 
see  our  noble  order  will  be  safe  enough  in  your 
hands." 

"And,"  continued  the  child,  emboldened  by  the  ap- 
plause he  received,  "  if  I  had  time  after  pricking  the 
Tribune,  I  would  fain  have  a  second  stroke  at " 

"  Whom  ? "  said  the  Savelli,  observing  the  boy 
pause. 

"  My  cousin  Adrian.  Shame  on  him,  for  dreaming 
to  make  one  a  wife  whose  birth  would  scarce  fit  her 
for  a  Colonna's  leman  !  " 

"  Go  play,  my  child — go  play,"  said  the  old  Colonna, 
•as  he  pushed  the  boy  from  him. 

"  Enough  of  this  babble,"  cried  the  Orsini,  rudely. 
"  Tell  me,  old  lord ;  just  as  I  entered,  I  saw  an  old 
friend  (one  of  your  former  mercenaries)  quit  the 
palace — may  I  crave  his  errand  ?  " 

"  Ah,  yes  ;  a  messenger  from  Era  Moreale.  I  wrote 
to  the  Knight,  reproving  him  for  his  desertion  on  our 
ill-starred  return  from  Corneto,  and  intimating  that 
five  hundred  lances  would  be  highly  paid  for  just  now." 

"  Ah,"  said  Savelli ;  "  and  what  is  his  answer?  " 

"  Oh,  wily  and  evasive :  He  is  profuse  in  compli- 
ments and  good  wishes;  but  says  he  is  under  fealty 
to  the  Hungarian  king,  whose  cause  is  before  Rienzi's 
tribunal ;  that  he  cannot  desert  his  present  standard ; 
that  he  fears  Rome  is  so  evenly  balanced  between 
patricians  and  the  people,  that  whatever  party  would 


286  RIENZI 

permanently  be  uppermost  must  call  in  a  Podesta ;  and 
this  character  alone  the  Proven9al  insinuates  would 
suit  him." 

"  Montreal  our  Podesta  ?  "  cried  the  Orsini. 

"  And  why  not  ?  "  said  Savelli ;  "  as  good  a  well- 
born Podesta  as  a  low-born  Tribune !  But  I  trust  we 
may  do  without  either.  Colonna,  has  this  messenger 
from  Fra  Moreale  left  the  city  ?  " 

"  I  suppose  so." 

"  No,"  said  Orsini ;  "  I  met  him  at  the  gate,  and 
knew  him  of  old :  it  is  Rodolf,  the  Saxon  (once  a 
hireling  of  the  Colonna),  who  has  made  some  widows 
among  my  clients  in  the  good  old  day.  He  is  a  little 
disguised  now;  however,  I  recognised  and  accosted 
him,  for  I  thought  he  was  one  who  might  yet  become 
a  friend,  and  I  bade  him  await  me  at  my  palace." 

"  You  did  well,"  said  the  Savelli,  musing,  and  his 
eyes  met  those  of  Orsini.  Shortly  afterwards  a  con- 
ference, in  which  much  was  said  and  nothing  settled, 
was  broken  up ;  but  Luca  di  Savelli,  loitering  at  the 
porch,  prayed  the  Frangipani,  and  the  other  Barons, 
to  adjourn  to  the  Orsini's  palace. 

"  The  old  Colonna,"  said  he,  "  is  well-nigh  in  his 
dotage.  We  shall  come  to  a  quick  determination 
without  him,  and  we  can  secure  his  proxy  in  his  son." 

And  this  was  a  true  prophecy,  for  half-an-hour's  con- 
sultation with  Rodolf  of  Saxony  sufficed  to  ripen 
thought  into  enterprise. 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES        287 
CHAPTER   V 

THE    NIGHT   AND    ITS    INCIDENTS 

With  the  following  twilight,  Rome  was  summoned 
to  the  commencement  of  the  most  magnificent  spec- 
tacle the  Imperial  City  had  witnessed  since  the  fall  of 
the  Caesars.  It  had  been  a  singular  privilege,  ar- 
rogated by  the  people  of  Rome,  to  confer  upon  their 
citizens  the  order  of  knighthood.  Twenty  years  be- 
fore, a  Colonna  and  an  Orsini  had  received  this  popu- 
lar honour.  Rienzi,  who  designed  it  as  the  prelude  to 
a  more  important  ceremony,  claimed  from  the  Ro- 
mans a  similar  distinction.  From  the  Capitol  to  the 
Lateran  swept,  in  long  procession,  all  that  Rome 
boasted  of  noble,  of  fair,  and  brave.  First  went  horse- 
men without  number,  and  from  all  the  neighbouring 
parts  of  Italy,  in  apparel  that  well  befitted  the  occa- 
sion. Trumpeters,  and  musicians  of  all  kinds,  fol- 
lowed, and  the  trumpets  were  of  silver;  youths  bear- 
ing the  harness  of  the  knightly  war-steed,  wrought 
with  gold,  preceded  the  march  of  the  loftiest  matron- 
age  of  Rome,  whose  love  for  show,  and  it  may  be 
whose  admiration  for  triumphant  fame  (which  to 
women  sanctions  many  offences,)  made  them  forget 
the  humbled  greatness  of  their  lords:  amidst  them 
Nina  and  Irene,  outshining  all  the  rest ;  then  came  the 
Tribune  and  the  Pontiff's  Vicar,  surrounded  by  all 
the  great  Signers  of  the  city,  smothering  alike  resent- 
ment, revenge,  and  scorn,  and  struggling  who  should 
approach  nearest  to  the  monarch  of  the  day.  The 
high-hearted  old  Colonna  alone  remained  aloof  follow- 
ing at  a  little  distance,  and  in  a  garb  studiously  plain. 


288  RIENZI 

But  his  age,  his  rank,  his  former  renown  in  war  and 
state,  did  not  suffice  to  draw  to  his  gray  locks  and  high- 
born mien  a  single  one  of  the  shouts  that  attended 
the  meanest  lord  on  whom  the  great  Tribune  smiled. 
Savelli  followed  nearest  to  Rienzi,  the  most  obsequious 
of  the  courtly  band ;  immediately  before  the  Tribune 
came  two  men ;  the  one  bore  a  drawn  sword,  the  other 
the  pcndonc,  or  standard  usually  assigned  to  royalty. 
The  Tribune  himself  was  clothed  in  a  long  robe  of 
white  satin,  whose  snowy  dazzle  (miri  candoris)  is 
peculiarly  dwelt  on  by  the  historian,  richly  decorated 
with  gold ;  while  on  his  breast  were  many  of  those 
mystic  symbols  I  have  before  alluded  to,  the  exact 
meaning  of  which  was  perhaps  known  only  to  the 
wearer.  In  his  dark  eye,  and  on  that  large  tranquil 
brow,,  in  which  thought  seemed  to  sleep,  as  sleeps 
a  storm,  there  might  be  detected  a  mind  abstracted 
from  the  pomp  around ;  but  ever  and  anon  he  aroused 
himself,  and  conversed  partially  with  Raimond  or 
Savelli. 

"  This  is  a  quaint  game,"  said  the  Orsini,  falling 
back  to  the  old  Colonna :  "  but  it  may  end  tragically." 

"  Methinks  it  may,"  said  the  old  man,  "  if  the  Trib- 
une overhear  thee." 

Orsini  grew  pale.  "  How — nay — nay,  even  if  he 
did,  he  never  resents  words,  but  professes  to  laugh  at 
our  spoken  rage.  It  was  but  the  other  day  that  some 
knave  told  him  what  one  of  the  Annibaldi  said  of  him 
— words  for  which  a  true  cavalier  would  have  drawn 
the  speaker's  life's  blood ;  and  he  sent  for  the  An- 
nibaldi, and  said,  '  My  friend,  receive  this  purse  of 
gold — court  wits  should  be  paid.'  " 

"  Did  Annibaldi  take  the  gold?  " 

"  Why,  no ;  the  Tribune  was  pleased  with  his  spirit, 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES        289 

and  made  him  sup  with  him ;  and  Annibaidi  says  he 
never  spent  a  merrier  evening,  and  no  longer  wonders 
that  his  kinsman,  Ricardo,  loves  the  buffoon  so." 

Arrived  now  at  the  Lateran,  Luca  di  Savelli  fell  also 
back,  and  whispered  to  Orsini;  the  Frangipani,  and 
some  other  of  the  nobles,  exchanged  meaning  looks; 
Rienzi,  entering  the  sacred  edifice  in  which,  according 
to  custom,  he  was  to  pass  the  night  watching  his 
armour,  bade  the  crowd  farewell,  and  summoned  them 
the  next  morning  "  To  hear  things  that  might,  he 
trusted,  be  acceptable  to  heaven  and  earth." 

The  immense  multitude  received  this  intimation  with 
curiosity  and  gladness,  while  those  who  had  been  in 
some  measure  prepared  by  Cecco  del  Vecchio,  hailed 
it  as  an  omen  of  their  Tribune's  unflagging  resolution. 
The  concourse  dispersed  with  singular  order  and 
quietness ;  it  was  recorded  as  a  remarkable  fact,  that  in 
so  great  a  crowd,  composed  of  men  of  all  parties,  none 
exhibited  licence  or  indulged  in  quarrel.  Some  of 
the  barons  and  cavaliers,  among  whom  was  Luca  di 
Savelli,  whose  sleek  urbanity  and  sarcastic  humour 
found  favour  with  the  Tribune,  and  a  few  subordinate 
pages  and  attendants,  alone  remained;  and,  save  a 
single  sentinel  at  the  porch,  that  broad  space  before 
the  Palace,  the  Basilica  and  Fount  of  Constantine, 
soon  presented  a  silent  and  desolate  void  to  the  mel- 
ancholy moonlight.  Within  the  church,  according  to 
the  usage  of  the  time  and  rite,  the  descendant  of  the 
Teuton  kings  received  the  order  of  the  Santo  Spirito. 
His  pride  or  some  superstition  equally  weak,  though 
more  excusable,  led  him  to  bathe  in  the  porphyry 
vase  which  an  absurd  legend  consecrated  to  Constan- 
tine ;  and  this,  as  Savelli  predicted,  cost  him  dear. 
These  appointed  ceremonies  concluded,  his  arms  were 
19 


290  RIENZI 

placed  in  that  part  of  the  church,  within  the  columns 
of  St.  John.  And  here  his  state  bed  was  prepared.* 

The  attendant  barons,  pages  and  chamberlains,  re- 
tired out  of  sight  to  a  small  side  chapel  in  the  edifice ; 
and  Rienzi  was  left  alone.  A  single  lamp,  placed  be- 
side his  bed,  contended  with  the  mournful  rays  of  the 
moon,  that  cast  through  the  long  casements,  over  aisle 
and  pillar,  its  "  dim  religious  light."  The  sanctity  of 
the  place,  the  solemnity  of  the  hour,  and  the  solitary 
silence  round,  were  well  calculated  to  deepen  the  high- 
wrought  and  earnest  mood  of  that  son  of  fortune. 
Many  and  high  fancies  swept  over  his  mind — now  of 
worldly  aspirations,  now  of  more  august  but  visionary 
belief,  till  at  length,  wearied  with  his  own  reflections, 
he  cast  himself  on  the  bed.  It  was  an  omen  which 
graver  history  has  not  neglected  to  record,  that  the 
moment  he  pressed  the  bed,  new  prepared  for  the 
occasion,  part  of  it  sank  under  him :  he  himself  was 
affected  by  the  accident,  and  sprung  forth,  turning 
pale  and  muttering;  but,  as  if  ashamed  of  his  weak- 
ness, after  a  moment's  pause,  again  composed  himself 
to  rest,  and  drew  the  drapery  round  him. 

The  moonbeams  grew  fainter  and  more  faint  as  the 
time  proceeded,  and  the  sharp  distinction  between 
light  and  shade  faded  fast  from  the  marble  floor ;  when 
from  behind  a  column  at  the  furthest  verge  of  the 
building,  a  strange  shadow  suddenly  crossed  the  sickly 
light — it  crept  on — it  moved,  but  without  an  echo, — 
from  pillar  to  pillar  it  flitted — it  rested  at  last  behind 
the  column  nearest  to  the  Tribune's  bed — it  remained 
stationary. 

*  In  a  more  northern  country,  the  eve  of  knighthood  would 
have  been  spent  without  sleeping.  In  Italy,  the  ceremony  of 
watching  the  armour  does  not  appear  to  have  been  so  rigidly 
observed. 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES        291 

The  shades  gathered  darker  and  darker  round;  the 
stillness  seemed  to  deepen ;  the  moon  was  gone ;  and, 
save  from  the  struggling  ray  of  the  lamp  beside  Rienzi, 
the  blackness  of  night  closed  over  the  solemn  and 
ghostly  scene. 

In  one  of  the  side  chapels,  as  I  have  before  said, 
which,  in  the  many  alterations  the  church  has  under- 
gone, is  probably  long  since  destroyed,  were  Savelli. 
and  the  few  attendants  retained  by  the  Tribune.  Sa- 
velli alone  slept  not ;  he  remained  sitting  erect,  breath- 
less and  listening,  while  the  tall  lights  in  the  chapel 
rendered  yet  more  impressive  the  rapid  changes  of  his 
countenance. 

"  Now  pray  Heaven,"  said  he,  "  the  knave  miscarry 
not !  Such  an  occasion  may  never  again  occur !  He 
has  a  strong  arm  and  a  dexterous  hand,  doubtless ; 
but  the  other  is  a  powerful  man.  The  deed  once  done, 
I  care  not  whether  the  doer  escape  or  not ;  if  not,  why 
we  must  stab  him !  Dead  men  tell  no  tales.  At  the 
worst,  who  can  avenge  Rienzi?  There  is  no  other 
Rienzi!  Ourselves  and  the  Frangipani  seize  the 
Aventine,  the  Colonna  and  the  Orsini  the  other  quar- 
ters of  the  city ;  and  without  the  master-spirit,  we  may 

laugh  at  the  mad  populace.  But  if  discovered ; '.' 

and  Savelli,  who,  fortunately  for  his  foes,  had  not 
nerves  equal  to.  his  will,  covered  his  face  and  shud- 
dered ; — "  I  think  I  hear  a  noise  ! — no — is  it  the  wind  ? 
— tush,  it  must  be  old  Vico  de  Scotto,  turning  in  his 
shell  of  mail ! — silent — I  like  not  that  silence  !  No  cry 
— no  sound!  Can  the  ruffian  have  played  us  false? 
or  could  he  not  scale  the  casement?  It  is  but  a  child's 
effort ; — or  did  the  sentry  spy  him  ?  " 

Time  passed  on :  the  first  ray  of  daylight  slowly 
gleamed,  when  he  thought  he  heard  the  door  of  the 


292  RIENZI 

church  close.  Savelli's  suspense  became  intolerable : 
he  stole  from  the  chapel,  and  came  in  sight  of  the 
Tribune's  bed — all  was  silent. 

"  Perhaps  the  silence  of  death,"  said  Savelli,  as  he 
crept  back. 

Meanwhile  the  Tribune,  vainly  endeavouring  to 
close  his  eyes,  was  rendered  yet  more  watchful  by  the 
uneasy  position  he  was  obliged  to  assume — for  the 
part  of  the  bed  towards  the  pillow  having  given  way, 
while  the  rest  remained  solid,  he  had  inverted  the 
legitimate  order  of  lying,  and  drawn  himself  up  as  he 
might  best  accommodate  his  limbs,  towards  the  foot  of 
the  bed.  The  light  of  the  lamp,  though  shaded  by  the 
draperies,  was  thus  opposite  to  him.  Impatient  of  his 
wakefulness,  he  at  last  thought  it  was  this  dull  and 
flickering  light  which  scared  away  the  slumber,  and 
was  about  to  rise,  to  remove  it  further  from  him,  when 
he  saw  the  curtain  at  the  other  end  of  the  bed  gently 
lifted :  he  remained  quiet  and  alarmed ; — ere  he  could 
draw  a  second  breath,  a  dark  figure  interposed  be- 
tween the  light  and  the  bed ;  and  he  felt  that  a  stroke 
was  aimed  against  that  part  of  the  couch,  which,  but 
for  the  accident  that  had  seemed  to  him  ominous, 
would  have  given  his  breast  to  the  knife.  Rienzi 
waited  not  a  second  and  better-directed  blow ;  as  the 
assassin  yet  stooped,  groping  in  the  uncertain  light, 
he  threw  on  him  all  the  weight  and  power  of  his  large 
and  muscular  frame,  wrenched  the  stiletto  from  the 
bravo's  hand,  and  dashing  him  on  the  bed,  placed  his 
knee  on  his  breast. — The  stiletto  rose — gleamed — de- 
scended— the  murtherer  swerved  aside,  and  it  pierced 
only  his  right  arm.  The  Tribune  raised,  for  a  dead- 
lier blow,  the  revengeful  blade. 

The  assassin  thus  foiled  was  a  man  used  to  all  form 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES        293 

and  shape  of  danger,  and  he  did  not  now  lose  his  pres- 
ence of  mind. 

"  Hold !  "  said  he ;  "  if  you  kill  me,  you  will  die 
yourself.  Spare  me,  and  I  will  save  you." 

"  Miscreant !  " 

"  Hush — not  so  loud,  or  you  will  disturb  your  at- 
tendants, and  some  of  them  may  do  what  I  have  failed 
to  execute.  Spare  me,  I  say,  and  I  will  reveal  that 
which  were  worth  more  than  my  life ;  but  call  not — 
speak  not  aloud,  I  warn  you !  " 

The  Tribune  felt  his  heart  stand  still :  in  that  lonely 
place,  afar  from  his  idolising  people — his  devoted 
guards — with  but  loathing  barons,  or,  it  might  be, 
faithless  menials,  within  call,  might  not  the  baffled 
murtherer  give  a  wholesome  warning? — and  those 
words  and  that  doubt  seemed  suddenly  to  reverse  their 
respective  positions,  and  leave  the  conqueror  still  in 
the  assassin's  power. 

"  Thou  thinkest  to  deceive  me,"  said  he,  but  in  a 
voice  whispered  and  uncertain,  which  shewed  the 
ruffian  the  advantage  he  had  gained :  "  thou  wouldst 
that*  I  might  release  thee  without  summoning  my  at- 
tendants, that  thou  mightst  a  second  time  attempt  my 
life." 

"  Thou  hast  disabled  my  right  arm,  and  disarmed 
me  of  my  only  weapon." 

"  How  earnest  thou  hither  ?  " 

"  By  connivance." 

"  Whence  this  attempt  ?  " 

"  The  dictation  of  others." 

"  If  I  pardon  thee— 

"  Thou  shalt  know  all." 

"  Rise,"  said  the  Tribune,  releasing  his  prisoner,  but 
with  great  caution,  and  still  grasping  his  shoulder  with 


294  RIENZI 

one  hand,  while  the  other  pointed  the  dagger  at  his 
throat. 

"  Did  my  sentry  admit  thee  ?  There  is  but  one  en- 
trance to  the  church,  methinks." 

"  He  did  not ;  follow  me,  and  I  will  tell  thee  more." 

"  Dog !  thou  hast  accomplices !  " 

"  If  I  have,  thou  hast  the  knife  at  my  throat." 

"  Wouldst  thou  escape  ?  " 

"  I  cannot,  or  I  would." 

Rienzi  looked  hard,  by  the  dull  light  of  the  lamp, 
at  the  assassin.  His  rugged  and  coarse  countenance, 
rude  garb,  and  barbarian  speech,  seemed  to  him  proof 
sufficient  that  he  was  but  the  hireling  of  others;  and 
it  might  be  wise  to  brave  one  danger  present  and 
certain,  to  prevent  much  danger  future  and  unfore- 
seen. Rienzi,  too,  was  armed,  strong,  active,  in  the 
prime  of  life; — and  at  the  worst,  there  was  no  part 
of  the  building  whence  his  voice  would  not  reach  those 
within  the  chapel, — if  they  could  be  depended  upon. 

"  Shew  me  then  thy  place  and  means  of  entrance," 
said  he ;  "  and  if  I  but  suspect  thee  as  we  move — 
thou  diest.  Take  up  the  lamp." 

The  ruffian  nodded;  with  his  left  hand  took  up  the 
lamp  as  he  was  ordered ;  and  with  Rienzi's  grasp  on 
his  shoulder,  while  the  wound  from  his  right  arm 
dropped  gore  as  he  passed,  he  moved  noiselessly  along 
the  church — gained  the  altar — to  the  left  of  which  was 
a  small  room  for  the  use  or  retirement  of  the  priest. 
To  this  he  made  his  way.  Rienzi's  heart  misgave  him 
a  moment. 

"  Beware,"  he  whispered,  "  the  least  sign  of  fraud, 
and  thou  art  the  first  victim !  " 

The  assassin  nodded  again,  and  proceeded.  They 
entered  the  room;  and  then  the  Tribune's  strange 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES        295 

guide  pointed  to  an  open  casement.  "  Behold  my 
entrance,"  said  he ;  "  and  if  you  permit  me,  my 
egress " 

"  The  frog  gets  not  out  of  the  well  so  easily  as  he 
came  in,  friend,"  returned  Rienzi,  smiling.  "  And 
now,  if  I  am  not  to  call  my  guards,  what  am  I  to  do 
with  thee !  " 

"  Let  me  go,  and  I  will  seek  thee  to-morrow;  and 
if  thou  payest  me  handsomely,  and  promisest  not  to 
harm  limb  or  life,  I  will  put  thine  enemies  and  my 
employers  in  thy  power." 

Rienzi  could  not  refrain  from  a  slight  laugh  at  the 
proposition,  but  composing  himself,  replied — "  And 
what  if  I  call  my  attendants,  and  give  thee  to  their 
charge  ?  " 

"  Thou  givest  me  to  those  very  enemies  and  em- 
ployers, and  in  despair  lest  I  betray  them,  ere  the  day 
dawn  they  cut  my  throat — or  thine." 

"  Methinks  knave,  I  have  seen  thee  before." 

"  Thou  hast.  I  blush  not  for  name  or  country.  I 
am  Rodolf  of  Saxony !  " 

"  I  remember  me  : — servitor  of  Walter  de  Montreal. 
He,  then,  is  thy  instigator !  " 

"  Roman,  no !  That  noble  Knight  scorns  other 
weapon  than  the  open  sword,  and  his  own  hand  slays 
his  own  foes.  Your  pitiful,  miserable,  dastard  Italians, 
alone  employ  the  courage,  and  hire  the  arm,  of  others." 

Rienzi  remained  silent.  He  had  released  hold  of 
his  prisoner,  and  stood  facing  him ;  every  now  and 
then  regarding  his  countenance,  and  again  relapsing 
into  thought.  At  length,  casting  his  eyes  round  the 
small  chamber  thus  singularly  tenanted,  he  observed 
a  kind  of  closet,  in  which  the  priests'  robes,  and  some 
articles  used  in  the  sacred  service,  were  contained.  It 


296  RIENZI 

suggested  at  once  an  escape  from  his  dilemma :  he 
pointed  to  it — 

"  There,  Rodolf  of  Saxony,  shalt  thou  pass  some 
part  of  this  night — a  small  penance  for  thy  meditated 
crime ;  and  to-morrow,  as  thou  lookest  for  life,  thou 
wilt  reveal  all." 

"  Hark  ye,  Tribune,"  returned  the  Saxon,  dog- 
gedly ;  "  my  liberty  is  in  your  power,  but  neither  my 
tongue  nor  my  life.  If  I  consent  to  be  caged  in  that 
hole,  you  must  swear  on  the  crossed  hilt  of  the  dagger 
that  you  now  hold,  that,  on  confession  of  all  I  know, 
you  pardon  and  set  me  free.  My  employers  are 
enough  to  glut  your  rage  an  you  were  a  tiger.  If 
you  do  not  swear  this " 

"  Ah,  my  modest  friend ! — the  alternative  ?  " 

"  I  brain  myself  against  the  stone  wall !  Better  such 
a  death  than  the  rack !  " 

"  Fool,  I  want  not  revenge  against  such  as  thou. 
Be  honest  and  I  swear  that,  twelve  hours  after  thy  con- 
fession, thou  shalt  stand  safe  and  unscathed  without 
the  walls  of  Rome.  So  help  me  our  Lord  and  his 
saints." 

"  I  am  content ! — Donncr  und  Hagel,  I  have  lived 
long  enough  to  care  only  for  my  own  life,  and  the 
great  captain's  next  to  it ; — for  the  rest,  I  reck  not  if 
ye  southerns  cut  each  other's  throats,  and  make  all 
Italy  one  grave." 

With  this  benevolent  speech,  Rodolf  entered  the 
closet ;  but  ere  Rienzi  could  close  the  door,  he  stepped 
forth  again — 

"  Hold,"  said  he :  "  this  blood  flows  fast.  Help  me 
to  bandage  it,  or  I  shall  bleed  to  death  ere  my  con- 
fession." 

"Per  fede,"  said  the  Tribune,  his  strange  humour 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES        297 

enjoying  the  man's  cool  audacity ;  "  but,  considering 
the  service  thou  wouldst  have  rendered  me,  thou  art 
the  most  pleasant,  forbearing,  unabashed,  good  fellow, 
I  have  seen  this  many  a  year.  Give  us  thine  own  belt. 
I  little  thought  my  first  eve  of  knighthood  would  have 
been  so  charitably  spent !  " 

"  Methinks  these  robes  would  make  a  better  band- 
age," said  Rodolf,  pointing  to  the  priests'  gear  sus- 
pended from  the  wall. 

"  Silence,  knave,"  said  the  Tribune,  frowning ;  "  no 
sacrilege !  Yet,  as  thou  takest  such  dainty  care  of 
thyself,  thou  shalt  have  mine  own  scarf  to  accommo- 
date thee." 

With  that  the  Tribune,  placing  his  dagger  on  the 
ground,  while  he  cautiously  guarded  it  with  his  foot, 
bound  up  the  wounded  limb,  for  which  condescension 
Rodolf  gave  him  short  thanks;  resumed  his  weapon 
and  lamp ;  closed  the  door ;  drew  over  it  the  long, 
heavy  bolt  without,  and  returned  to  his  couch,  deeply 
and  indignantly  musing  over  the  treason  he  had  so 
fortunately  escaped. 

At  the  first  gray  streak  of  dawn  he  went  out  of  the 
great  door  of  the  church,  called  the  sentry,  who  was 
one  of  his  own  guard,  and  bade  him  privately,  and 
now  ere  the  world  was  astir,  convey  the  prisoner  to 
one  of  the  private  dungeons  of  the  Capitol.  "  Be 
silent,"  said  he :  "  utter  not  a  word  of  this  to  any  one ; 
be  obedient,  and  thou  shalt  be  promoted.  This  done, 
find  out  the  councillor,  Pandulfo  di  Guido,  and  bid 
him  seek  me  here  ere  the  crowd  assemble." 

He  then,  making  the  sentinel  doff  his  heavy  shoes 
of  iron,  led  him  across  the  church,  resigned  Rodolf  to 
his  care,  saw  them  depart,  and  in  a  few  minutes  after- 
wards his  voice  was  heard  by  the  inmates  of  the  neigh- 


298  RIENZI 

bouring  chapel;  and  he  was  soon  surrounded  by  his 
train. 

He  was  already  standing  on  the  floor,  wrapped  in  a 
large  gown  lined  with  furs ;  and  his  piercing  eye 
scanned  carefully  the  face  of  each  man  that  ap- 
proached. Two  of  the  Barons  of  the  Frangipani 
family  exhibited  some  tokens  of  confusion  and  em- 
barrassment, from  which  they  speedily  recovered  at 
the  frank  salutation  of  the  Tribune. 

But  all  the  art  of  Savelli  could  not  prevent  his 
features  from  betraying  to  the  most  indifferent  eye  the 
terror  of  his  soul ; — and,  when  he  felt  the  penetrating 
gaze  of  Rienzi  upon  him,  he  trembled  in  every  joint. 
Rienzi  alone  did  not,  however,  seem  to  notice  his  dis- 
order; and  when  Vico  di  Scotto,  an  old  knight,  from 
whose  hands  he  received  his  sword,  asked  him  how  he 
had  passed  the  night,  he  replied,  cheerfully — 

"  Well,  well — my  brave  friend !  Over  a  maiden 
knight  some  good  angel  always  watches.  Signer 
Luca  di  Savelli,  I  fear  you  have  slept  but  ill :  you  seem 
pale.  No  matter! — our  banquet  to-day  will  soon 
brighten  the  current  of  your  gay  blood." 

"  Blood,  Tribune !  "  said  di  Scotto,  who  was  inno- 
cent of  the  plot :  "  thou  sayest  blood,  and  lo !  on  the 
floor  are  large  gouts  of  it  not  yet  dry." 

"  Now,  out  on  thee,  old  hero,  for  betraying  my  awk- 
wardness! I  pricked  myself  with  my  own  dagger  in 
unrobing.  Thank  Heaven  it  hath  no  poison  in  its 
blade ! " 

The  Frangipani  exchanged  looks, — Luca  di  Savelli 
clung  to  a  column  for  support, — and  the  rest  of  the 
attendants  seemed  grave  and  surprised. 

"  Think  not  of  it,  my  masters,"  said  Rienzi :  "  it  is 
a  good  omen,  and  a  true  prophecy.  It  implies  that 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES       299 

he  who  girds  on  his  sword  for  the  good  of  the  state, 
must  be  ready  to  spill  his  blood  for  it :  that  am  I.  No 
more  of  this — a  mere  scratch  :  it  gave  more  blood  than 
I  recked  of  from  so  slight  a  puncture,  and  saves  the 
leech  the  trouble  of  the  lancet.  How  brightly  breaks 
the  day !  We  must  prepare  to  meet  our  fellow-citi- 
zens— they  will  be  here  anon.  Ha,  my  Pandulfo — 
welcome! — thou,  my  old  friend,  shalt  buckle  on  this 
mantle !  " 

And  while  Pandulfo  was  engaged  in  the  task,  the 
Tribune  whispered  a  few  words  in  his  ear,  which,  by 
the  smile  on  his  countenance,  seemed  to  the  attendants 
one  of  the  familiar  jests  with  which  Rienzi  distin- 
guished his  intercourse  with  his  more  confidential  inti- 
mates 


CHAPTER    VI 

THE    CELEBRATED    CITATION 

The  bell  of  the  great  Lateran  church  sounded  shrill 
and  loud,  as  the  mighty  multitude,  greater  even  than 
that  of  the  preceding  night,  swept  on.  The  appointed 
officers  made  way  with  difficulty  for  the  barons  and 
ambassadors,  and  scarcely  were  those  noble  visitors 
admitted  ere  the  crowd  closed  in  their  ranks,  poured 
headlong  into  the  church,  and  took  the  way  to  the 
chapel  of  Boniface  VIII.  There,  filling  every  cranny, 
and  blocking  up  the  entrance,  the  more  fortunate  of 
the  press  beheld  the  Tribune  surrounded  by  the  splen- 
did court  his  genius  had  collected,  and  his  fortune  had 
subdued.  At  length,  as  the  solemn  and  holy  music 
began  to  swell  through  the  edifice,  preluding  the  cele- 
bration of  the  mass,  the  Tribune  stepped  forth,  and  the 


3oo  RIENZI 

hush  of  the  music  was  increased  by  the  universal  and 
dead  silence  of  the  audience.  His  height,  his  air,  his 
countenance,  were,  such  as  always  command  the  at- 
tention of  crowds ;  and  at  this  time  they  received  every 
adjunct  from  the  interest  of  the  occasion,  and  that 
peculiar  look  of  intent  yet  suppressed  fervour,  which 
is,  perhaps,  the  sole  gift  of  the  eloquent  that  Nature 
alone  can  give. 

"  Be  it  known,"  said  he,  slowly  and  deliberately,  "  in 
virtue  of  that  authority,  power,  and  jurisdiction,  which 
the  Roman  people,  in  general  parliament,  have  as- 
signed to  us,  and  which  the  Sovereign  Pontiff  hath 
confirmed,  that  we,  not  ungrateful  of  the  gift  and  grace 
of  the  Holy  Spirit — whose  soldier  we  now  are — nor  of 
the  favour  of  the  Roman  people,  declare,  that  Rome, 
capital  of  the  world,  and  base  of  the  Christian  church ; 
and  that  every  City,  State,  and  People  of  Italy,  are 
henceforth  free.  By  that  freedom,  and  in  the  same 
consecrated  authority,  we  proclaim,  that  the  election, 
jurisdiction,  and  monarchy  of  the  Roman  empire  ap- 
pertain to  Rome  and  Rome's  people,  and  the  whole  of 
Italy.  We  cite,  then,  and  summon  personally,  the 
illustrious  princes,  Louis  Duke  of  Bavaria,  and 
Charles  King  of  Bohemia,  who  would  style  themselves 
Emperors  of  Italy,  to  appear  before  us,  or  the  other 
magistrates  of  Rome,  to  plead  and  to  prove  their  claim 
between  this  day  and  the  Day  of  Pentecost.  We  cite 
also,  and  within  the  same  term,  the  Duke  of  Sax- 
ony, the  Prince  of  Brandenburg,  and  whosoever  else, 
potentate,  prince,  or  prelate,  asserts  the  right  of  Elec- 
tor to  the  imperial  throne — a  right  that,  we  find  it 
chronicled  from  ancient  and  immemorial  time,  apper- 
taineth  only  to  the  Roman  people — and  this  in  vindi- 
cation of  our  civil  liberties,  without  derogation  of  the 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES        301 

spiritual  power  of  the  Church,  the  Pontiff,  and  the 
Sacred  College.*  Herald,  proclaim  the  citation,  at 
the  greater  and  more  formal  length,  as  written  and  in- 
trusted to  your  hands,  without  the  Lateran." 

As  Rienzi  concluded  this  bold  proclamation  of  the 
liberties  of  Italy,  the  Tuscan  ambassadors,  and  those 
of  some  other  of  the  free  states,  murmured  low  appro- 

*  "  II  tutto  senza  derpgare  all'  autorita  della  Chiesa,  del 
Tapa  e  del  Sacro  Collegio."  So  concludes  this  extraordinary 
citation,  this  bold  and  wonderful  assertion  of  the  classic  inde- 
pendence of  Italy,  in  the  most  feudal  time  of  the  fourteenth 
century.  The  anonymous  biographer  of  Rienzi  declares  that 
the  Tribune  cited  also  the  Pope  and  the  Cardinals  to  reside 
in  Rome.  De  Sade  powerfully  and  incontrovertibly  refutes 
this  addition  to  the  daring  or  the  extravagance  of  Rienzi. 
Gibbon,  however,  who  has  rendered  the  rest  of  the  citation 
in  terms  more  abrupt  and  discourteous  than  he  was  warranted 
by  any  authority,  copies  the  biographer's  blunder,  and  sneers 
at  De  Sade,  as  using  arguments  "  rather  of  decency  than  of 
weight."  Without  wearying  the  reader  with  all  the  argu- 
ments of  the  learned  Abbe,  it  may  be  sufficient  to  give  the 
first  two. 

1st.  All  the  other  contemporaneous  historians  that  have 
treated  of  this  event,  G.  Vallani,  Hocsemius,  the  Vatican 
MSS.  and  other  chroniclers,  relating  the  citation  of  the  Em- 
peror and  Electors,  say  nothing  of  that  of  the  Pope  and  Car- 
dinals; and  the  Pope  (Clement  VI.),  in  his  subsequent  accusa- 
tions of  Rienzi,  while  very  bitter  against  his  citation  of  the 
Emperor,  is  wholly  silent  on  what  would  have  been  to  the 
Pontiff  the  much  greater  offence  of  citing  himself  and  the 
Cardinals. 

2d.  The  literal  act  of  this  citation,  as  published  formally  in 
the  Lateran,  is  extant  in  Hocsemius,  (whence  is  borrowed, 
though  not  at  all  its  length,  the  speech  in  the  text  of  our 
present  tale;)  and  in  this  document  the  Pope  and  his  Cardi- 
nals are  not  named  in  the  summons. 

Gibbon's  whole  account  of  Rienzi  is  superficial  and  unfair. 
To  the  cold  and  sneering  scepticism,  which  so  often  deforms 
the  gigantic  work  of  that  great  writer,  allowing  nothing  for 
that  sincere  and  urgent  enthusiasm  which,  whether  of  liberty 
or  religion,  is  the  most  common  parent  of  daring  action,  the 
great  Roman  seems  but  an  ambitious  and  fantastic  madman. 
In  Gibbon's  hands  what  would  Cromwell  have  been?  what 
Vane?  what  Hampden?  The  pedant,  Julian,  with  his  dirty 
person  and  pompous  affectation,  was  Gibbon's  ideal  of  a 
great  man. 


302  RIENZI 

bation.  The  ambassadors  of  those  States  that  affected 
the  party  of  the  Emperor  looked  at  each  other  in  silent 
amaze  and  consternation.  The  Roman  Barons  re- 
mained with  mute  lips  and  downcast  eyes ;  only  over 
the  aged  face  of  Stephen  Colonna  settled  a  smile,  half 
of  scorn,  half  of  exultation.  But  the  great  mass  of 
the  citizens  were  caught  by  words  that  opened  so 
grand  a  prospect  as  the  emancipation  of  all  Italy :  and 
the  reverence  of  the  Tribune's  power  and  fortune  was 
almost  that  due  to  a  supernatural  being;  so  that  they 
did  not  pause  to  calculate  the  means  which  were  to 
correspond  with  the  boast. 

While  his  eye  roved  over  the  crowd,  the  gorgeous 
assemblage  near  him,  the  devoted  throng  beyond; — 
as  on  his  ear  boomed  the  murmur  of  thousands  and 
ten  thousands,  in  the  space  without,  from  before  the 
Palace  of  Constantine  (Palace  now  his  own!)  sworn 
to  devote  life  and  fortune  to  his  cause;  in  the  flush 
of  prosperity  that  yet  had  known  no  check;  in  the 
zenith  of  power,  as  yet  unconscious  of  reverse,  the 
heart  of  the  Tribune  swelled  proudly :  visions  of 
mighty  fame  and  limitless  dominion, — fame  and  do- 
minion, once  his  beloved  Rome's,  and  by  him  to  be 
restored,  rushed  before  his  intoxicated  gaze;  and  in 
the  delirious  and  passionate  aspirations  of  the  moment, 
he  turned  his  sword  alternately  to  the  three  quarters 
of  the  then  known  globe,  and  said,  in  an  abstracted 
voice,  as  a  man  in  a  dream,  "  In  the  right  of  the  Ro- 
man people  this  too  is  mine !  "  * 

Low  though  the  voice,  the  wild  boast  was  heard  by 
all  around  as  distinctly  as  if  borne  to  them  in  thunder. 
And  vain  it  were  to  describe  the  various  sensations 

*  "  Questo  e  mio." 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES        303 

it  excited;  the  extravagance  would  have  moved  the 
derision  of  his  foes,  the  grief  of  his  friends,  but  for  the 
manner  of  the  speaker,  which,  solemn  and  command- 
ing, hushed  for  the  moment  even  reason  and  hatred 
themselves  in  awe ;  afterwards  remembered  and  re- 
peated, void  of  the  spell  they  had  borrowed  from  the 
utterer,  the  words  met  the  cold  condemnation  of  the 
well-judging;  but  at  that  moment  all  things  seemed 
possible  to  the  hero  of  the  people.  He  spoke  as  one 
inspired — they  trembled  and  believed;  and,  as  rapt 
from  the  spectacle,  he  stood  a  moment  silent,  his  arm 
still  extended — his  dark  dilating  eye  fixed  upon  space 
— his  lip  parted — his  proud  head  towering  and  erect 
above  the  herd, — his  own  enthusiasm  kindled  that  of 
the  more  humble  and  distant  spectators ;  and  there 
was  a  deep  murmur  begun  by  one,  echoed  by  the  rest, 
"  The  Lord  is  with  Italy  and  Rienzi !  " 

The  Tribune  turned,  he  saw  the  Pope's  Vicar  as- 
tonished, bewildered,  rising  to  speak.  His  sense  and 
foresight  returned  to  him  at  once,  and,  resolved  to 
drown  the  dangerous  disavowal  of  the  Papal  authority 
for  this  hardihood,  which  was  ready  to  burst  from  Rai- 
mond's  lips,  he  motioned  quickly  to  the  musicians,  and 
the  solemn  and  ringing  chant  of  the  sacred  ceremony 
prevented  the  Bishop  of  Orvietto  all  occasion  of  self- 
exoneration  or  reply. 

The  moment  the  ceremony  was  over,  Rienzi  touched 
the  Bishop,  and  whispered,  "  We  will  explain  this  to 
your  liking.  You  feast  with  us  at  the  Lateran. — Your 
arm."  Nor  did  he  leave  the  good  Bishop's  arm,  nor 
trust  him  to  other  companionship,  until  to  the  stormy 
sound  of  horn  and  trumpet,  drum  and  cymbal,  and 
amidst  such  a  concourse  as  might  have  hailed,  on  the 
same  spot,  the  legendary  baptism  of  Constantine,  the 


304  RIENZI 

Tribune  and  his  nobles  entered  the  great  gates  of  the 
Lateran,  then  the  Palace  of  the  World. 

Thus  ended  that  remarkable  ceremony  and  that 
proud  challenge  of  the  Northern  Powers,  in  behalf  of 
the  Italian  liberties,  which,  had  it  been  afterwards  suc- 
cessful, would  have  been  deemed  a  sublime  daring; 
which,  unsuccessful,  has  been  construed,  by  the  vulgar 
into  a  frantic  insolence ;  but  which,  calmly  considering 
all  the  circumstances  that  urged  on  the  Tribune,  and 
all  the  power  that  surrounded  him,  was  not,  perhaps, 
altogether  so  imprudent  as  it  seemed.  And,  even  ac- 
cepting that  imprudence  in  the  extremest  sense, — by 
the  more  penetrating  judge  of  the  higher  'order  of 
character,  it  will  probably  be  considered  as  the  mag- 
nificent folly  of  a  bold  nature,  excited  at  once  by  posi- 
tion and  prosperity,  by  religious  credulities,  by  pa- 
triotic aspirings,  by  scholastic  visions  too  suddenly 
transferred  from  reverie  to  action,  beyond  that  wise 
and  earthward  policy  which  sharpens  the  weapon  ere 
it  casts  the  gauntlet. 


CHAPTER   VII 

THE   FESTIVAL 

The  Festival  of  that  day  was  far  the  most  sumptuous 
hitherto  known.  The  hint  of  Cecco  del  Vecchio, 
which  so  well  depicted  the  "character  of  his  fellow- 
citizens,  as  yet  it  exists,  though  not  to  such  excess,  in 
their  love  of  holyday  pomp  and  gorgeous  show,  was 
not  lost  upon  Rienzi.  One  instance  of  the  universal 
banqueting  (intended,  indeed,  rather  for  the  people 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES        305 

than  the  higher  ranks)  may  illustrate  the  more  than 
royal  profusion  that  prevailed.  From  morn  till  eve, 
streams  of  wine  flowed  like  a  fountain  from  the  nos- 
trils of  the  Horse  of  the  great  Equestrian  Statue  of 
Constantine.  The  mighty  halls  of  the  Lateran  pal- 
ace, open  to  all  ranks,  were  prodigally  spread ;  and  the 
games,  sports,  and  buffooneries  of  the  time,  were  in 
ample  requisition.  Apart,  the  Tribunessa,  as  Nina  was 
rather  unclassically  entitled,  entertained  the  dames  of 
Rome ;  while  the  Tribune  had  so  effectually  silenced 
or  conciliated  Raimond,  that  the  good  Bishop  shared 
his  peculiar  table — the  only  one  admitted  to  that 
honour.  As  the  eye  ranged  each  saloon  and  hall, 
it  beheld  the  space  lined  with  all  the  nobility  and 
knighthood — the  wealth  and  strength — the  learning 
and  the  beauty — of  the  Italian  metropolis ;  mingled 
with  ambassadors  and  noble  strangers,  even  from  be- 
yond the  Alps;* — envoys  not  only  of  the  free  states 
that  had  welcomed  the  rise  of  the  Tribune,  but  of  the 
high-born  and  haughty  tyrants  who  had  first  derided 
his  arrogance,  and  now  cringed  to  his  power.  There, 
were  not  only  the  ambassadors  of  Florence,  of  Sienna, 
of  Arezzo  (which  last  subjected  its  government  to  the 
Tribune,)  of  Todi,  of  Spoleto,  and  of  countless  other 
lesser  towns  and  states,  but  of  the  dark  and  terrible 
Visconti,  prince  of  Milan;  of  Obizzo  of  Ferrara,  and 
the  tyrant  rulers  of  Verona  and  Bologna;  even  the 
proud  and  sagacious  Malatesta,  lord  of  Rimini,  whose 
arm  afterwards  broke  for  awhile  the  power  of  Mon- 
treal, at  the  head  of  his  Great  Company,  had  deputed 
his  representative  in  his  most  honoured  noble.  John 
di  Vico,  the  worst  and  most  malignant  despot  of  his 

^*  The  simple  and  credulous  biographer  of  Rienzi  declares 
his  fame  to  have  reached  the  ears  of  the  Soldan  of  Babylon. 
20 


3o6  RIENZI 

day,  who  had  sternly  defied  the  arms  of  the  Tribune, 
now  subdued  and  humbled,  was  there  in  person;  and 
the  ambassadors  of  Hungary  and  of  Naples  mingled 
with  those  of  Bavaria  and  Bohemia,  whose  sovereigns 
that  day  had  been  cited  to  the  Roman  Judgment 
Court.  The  nodding  of  plumes,  the  glitter  of  jewels 
and  cloth  of  gold,  the  rustling  of  silks  and  jingle  of 
golden  spurs,  the  waving  of  banners  from  the  roof, 
the  sounds  of  minstrelsy  from  the  galleries  above,  all 
presented  a  picture  of  such  power  and  state — a  court 
and  chivalry  of  such  show — as  the  greatest  of  the 
feudal  kings  might  have  beheld  with  a  sparkling  eye 
and  a  swelling  heart  But  at  that  moment  the  cause 
and  lord  of  all  that  splendour,  recovered  from  his  late 
exhilaration,  sat  moody  and  abstracted,  remembering 
with  a  thoughtful  brow  the  adventure  of  the  past  night, 
and  sensible  that  amongst  his  gaudiest  revellers  lurked 
his  intended  murtherers.  Amidst  the  swell  of  the 
minstrelsy  and  the  pomp  of  the  crowd,  he  felt  that 
treason  scowled  beside  him;  and  the  image  of  the 
skeleton  obtruding,  as  of  old,  its  grim  thought  of 
death  upon  the  feast,  darkened  the  ruby  of  the  wine, 
and  chilled  the  glitter  of  the  scene. 

It  was  while  the  feast  was  loudest  that  Rienzi's  page 
was  seen  gliding  through  the  banquet,  and  whispering 
several  of  the  nobles ;  each  bowed  low,  but  changed 
colour  as  he  received  the  message. 

"  My  Lord  Savelli,"  said  Orsini,  himself  trembling, 
"  bear  yourself  more  bravely.  This  must  be  meant  in 
honour,  not  revenge.  I  suppose  your  summons  cor- 
responds with  mine." 

"  He — he — asks — asks — me  to  supper  at  the  Capi- 
tol ;  a  fri — endly  meeting — (pest  on  his  friendship !) — 
after  the  noise  of  the  day." 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES        307 

"  The  words  addressed  also  to  me ! "  said  Orsini, 
turning  to  one  of  the  Frangipani. 

Those  who  received  the  summons  soon  broke  from 
the  feast,  and  collected  in  a  group,  eagerly  conferring. 
Some  were  for  flight,  but  flight  was  confession ;  their 
number,  rank,  long  and  consecrated  impunity,  reas- 
sured them,  and  they  resolved  to  obey.  The  old 
Colonna,  the  sole  innocent  Baron  of  the  invited  guests, 
was  also  the  only  one  who  refused  the  invitation. 
"  Tush  !  "  said  he,  peevishly ;  "  here  is  feasting  enough 
for  one  day !  Tell  the  Tribune  that  ere  he  sups  I  hope 
to  be  asleep.  Gray  hairs  cannot  encounter  all  this  fever 
of  festivity." 

As  Rienzi  rose  to  depart,  which  he  did  early,  for 
the  banquet  took  place  while  yet  morning,  Raimond, 
eager  to  escape  and  confer  with  some  of  his  spiritual 
friends,  as  to  the  report  he  should  make  to  the  Pon- 
tiff, was  beginning  his  expressions  of  farewell,  when 
the  merciless  Tribune  said  to  him  gravely — 

"  My  Lord,  we  want  you  on  urgent  business  at  the 
Capitol.  A  prisoner — a  trial — perhaps  "  (he  added 
with  his  portentous  and  prophetic  frown)  "  an  execution 
waits  us !  Come." 

"  Verily,  Tribune,"  stammered  the  good  Bishop, 
"  this  is  a  strange  time  for  execution !  " 

"  Last  night  was  a  time  yet  more  strange. — Come." 

There  was  something  in  the  way  in  which  the  final 
word  was  pronounced,  that  Raimond  could  not  resist. 
He  sighed,  muttered,  twitched  his  robes,  and  followed 
the  Tribune.  As  he  passed  through  the  halls,  the 
company  rose  on  all  sides.  Rienzi  repaid  their  saluta- 
tions with  smiles  and  whispers  of  frank  courtesy  and 
winning  address.  Young  as  he  yet  was,  and  of  a 
handsome  and  noble  presence,  that  took  every  ad- 


308  RIENZI 

vantage  from  splendid  attire,  and  yet  more  from  an 
appearance  of  intellectual  command  in  his  brow  and 
eye,  which  the  less  cultivated  signers  of  that  dark  age 
necessarily  wanted — he  glittered  through  the  court  as 
one  worthy  to  form,  and  fitted  to  preside  over,  it ; 
and  his  supposed  descent  from  the  Teuton  Emperor, 
which,  since  his  greatness,  was  universally  bruited  and 
believed  abroad,  seemed  undeniably  visible  to  the  for- 
eign lords  in  the  majesty  of  his  mien  and  the  easy 
blandness  of  his  address. 

"  My  Lord  Prefect,"  said  he  to  a  dark  and  sullen 
personage  in  black  velvet,  the  powerful  and  arrogant 
John  di  Vico,  prefect  of  Rome,  "  we  are  rejoiced  to 
find  so  noble  a  guest  at  Rome :  we  must  repay  the 
courtesy  by  surprising  you  in  your  own  palace  ere 
long ; — nor  will  you,  Signer  "  (as  he  turned  to  the  en- 
voy from  Tivoli,)  "  refuse  us  a  shelter  amidst  your 
groves  and  waterfalls  ere  the  vintage  be  gathered. 
Methinks  Rome,  united  with  sweet  Tivoli,  grows  rec- 
onciled to  the  Muses.  Your  suit  is  carried,  Master 
Venoni :  the  council  recognises  its  justice ;  but  I  re- 
served the  news  for  this  holyday — you  do  not  blame 
me,  I  trust."  This  was  whispered,  with  a  half-affec- 
tionate frankness,  to  a  worthy  citizen,  who,  finding 
himself  amidst  so  many  of  the  great,  would  have 
shrunk  from  the  notice  of  the  Tribune;  but  it  was 
the  policy  of  Rienzi  to  pay  an  especial  and  marked  at- 
tention to  those  engaged  in  commercial  pursuits.  As, 
after  tarrying  a  moment  or  two  with  the  merchant,  he 
passed  on,  the  tall  person  of  the  old  Colonna  caught 
his  eye — 

"  Signor,"  said  he,  with  a  profound  inclination  of  his 
head,  but  with  a  slight  emphasis  of  tone,  "  you  will 
not  fail  us  this  evening." 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES        309 

"  Tribune- "  began  the  Colonna. 

"  We  receive  no  excuse,"  interrupted  the  Tribune, 
hastily,  and  passed  on. 

He  halted  for  a  few  moments  before  a  small  group 
of  men  plainly  attired,  who  were  watching  him  with 
intense  interest;  for  they,  too,  were  scholars,  and  in 
Rienzi's  rise  they  saw  another  evidence  of  that  won- 
derful and  sudden  power  which  intellect  had  begun 
to  assume  over  brute  force.  With  these,  as  if  abruptly 
mingled  with  congenial  spirits,  the  Tribune  relaxed 
all  the  gravity  of  his  brow.  Happier,  perhaps,  his 
living  career — more  unequivocal  his  posthumous  re- 
nown— had  his  objects  as  his  tastes  been  theirs! 

"  Ah,  carissime! "  said  he  to  one,  whose  arm  he 
drew  within  his  own, — "  and  how  proceeds  thy  inter- 
pretation of  the  old  marbles  ? — half  unravelled  ?  I  re- 
joice to  hear  it !  Confer  with  me  as  of  old,  I  pray 
thee.  To-morrow — no,  nor  the  day  after,  but  next 
week — we  will  have  a  tranquil  evening.  Dear  poet, 
your  ode  transported  me  to  the  days  of  Horace ;  yet, 
methinks,  we  do  wrong  to  reject  the  vernacular  for  the 
Latin.  You  shake  your  head  ?  Well,  Petrarch  thinks 
with  you :  his  great  epic  moves  with  the  stride  of  a 
giant — so  I  hear  from  his  friend  and  envoy, — and  here 
he  is.  My  Laelius,  is  that  not  your  name  with  Pe- 
trarch? How  shall  I  express  my  delight  at  his  com- 
forting, his  inspiring  letter?  Alas!  he  overrates  not 
my  intentions,  but  my  power.  Of  this  hereafter." 

A  slight  shade  darkened  the  Tribune's  brow  at  these 
words :  but  moving  on,  a  long  line  of  nobles  and 
princes  on  either  side,  he  regained  his  self-possession, 
and  the  dignity  he  had  dropped  with  his  former  equals. 
Thus  he  passed  through  the  crowd,  and  gradually  dis- 
appeared. 


3io  RIENZI 

"  He  bears  him  bravely,"  said  one,  as  the  revellers 
reseated  themselves.  "  Noticed  you  the  ivc — the  style 
royal  ?  " 

"  But  it  must  be  owned  that  he  lords  it  well,"  said 
the  ambassador  of  the  Visconti :  "  less  pride  would 
be  cringing  to  his  haughty  court." 

"  Why,"  said  a  professor  of  Bologna,  "  why  is  the 
Tribune  called  proud?     I  see  no  pride  in  him." 
.  "  Nor  I,"  said  a  wealthy  jeweller. 

While  these,  and  yet  more  contradictory,  comments 
followed  the  exit  of  the  Tribune,  he  passed  into  the 
saloon,  where  Nina  presided ;  and  here  his  fair  person 
and  silver  tongue  ("  Suavis  coloratccque  sent  entice"  ac- 
cording to  the  description  of  Petrarch)  won  him  a 
more  general  favour  with  the  matrons  than  he  ex- 
perienced with  their  lords,  and  not  a  little  contrasted 
the  formal  and  nervous  compliments  of  the  good 
Bishop,  who  served  him  on  such  occasions  with  an  ex- 
cellent foil. 

But  as  soon  as  these  ceremonies  were  done,  and 
Rienzi  mounted  his  horse,  his  manner  changed  at  once 
into  a  stern  and  ominous  severity. 

"  Vicar,"  said  he,  abruptly,  to  the  Bishop,  "  we 
might  well  need  your  presence.  Learn  that  at  the 
Capitol  now  sits  the  Council  in  judgment  upon  an 
assassin.  Last  night,  but  for  Heaven's  mercy,  I 
should  have  fallen  a  victim  to  a  hireling's  dagger. 
Knew  you  aught  of  this  ?  " 

And  he  turned  so  sharply  on  the  Bishop,  that  the 
poor  canonist  nearly  dropped  from  his  horse  in  sur- 
prise and  terror. 

"  I !— "  said  he. 

Rienzi  smiled — "  No,  good  my  Lord  Bishop !  I  see 
you  are  of  no  murtherer's  mould.  But  to  continue : — 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES        311 

that  I  might  not  appear  to  act  in  mine  own  cause,  I 
ordered  the  prisoner  to  be  tried  in  my  absence.  In 
his  trial  (you  marked  the  letter  brought  me  at  our 
banquet  ?) " 

"  Ay,  and  you  changed  colour." 

"  Well  I  might :  in  his  trial,  I  say,  he  has  confessed 
that  nine  of  the  loftiest  lords  of  Rorrie  were  his  in- 
stigators. They  sup  with  me  to-night! — Vicar,  for- 
wards !  " 


BOOK   V 

THE  CRISIS 

"  Questo  ha  acceso  '1  fuoco  e  la  fiamma  laquale  non  la  par 
spotegnere." — Vit.  di  Col.  di  Riensi,  lib.  i.  cap.  29. 

"  He  has  kindled  fire  and  flames  which  he  will  not  be  able 
to  extinguish." — Life  of  Cola  di  Riensi. 


CHAPTER   I 

THE  JUDGMENT   OF  THE  TRIBUNE 

The  brief  words  of -the  Tribune  to  Stephen  Colonna, 
though  they  sharpened  the  rage  of  the  proud  old 
noble,  were  such  as  he  did  not  on  reflection  deem  it 
prudent  to  disobey.  Accordingly,  at  the  appointed 
hour,  he  found  himself  in  one  of  the  halls  of  the  Capi- 
tol, with  a  gallant  party  of  his  peers.  Rienzi  received 
them  with  more  than  his  usual  graciousness. 

They  sate  down  to  the  splendid  board  in  secret  un- 
easiness and  alarm,  as  they  saw  that,  with  the  excep- 
tion of  Stephen  Colonna,  none,  save  the  conspirators, 
had  been  invited  to  the  banquet.  Rienzi,  regardless 
of  their  silence  and  abstraction,  was  more  than  usually 
gay — the  old  Colonna  more  than  usually  sullen. 

"  We  fear  we  have  but  ill  pleased  you,  my  Lord 
Colonna,  by  our  summons.  Once,  methinks,  we 
might  more  easily  provoke  you  to  a  smile." 

"  Situations  are  changed,  Tribune,  since  you  were 
my  guest." 

312 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES        313 

"  Why,  scarcely  so.  I  have  risen,  but  you  have  not 
fallen.  Ye  walk  the  streets  day  and  night  in  security 
and  peace ;  your  lives  are  safe  from  the  robber,  and 
your  palaces  no  longer  need  bars  and  .battlements  to 
shield  you  from  your  fellow-citizens.  I  have  risen, 
but  we  all  have  risen — from  barbarous  disorder  into  civ- 
ilised life !  My  Lord  Gianni  Colonna,  whom  we  have 
made  Captain  over  Campagna,  you  will  not  refuse  a 
cup  to  the  Buono  Stato ; — nor  think  we  mistrust  your 
valour,  when  we  say,  that  we  rejoice  Rome  hath  no 
enemies  to  attest  your  generalship." 

"  Methinks,"  quoth  the  old  Colonna,  bluntly,  "  we 
shall  have  enemies  enough  from  Bohemia  and  Bavaria, 
ere  the  next  harvest  be  green." 

"  And,  if  so,"  replied  the  Tribune,  calmly,  "  foreign 
foes  are  better  than  civil  strife." 

"  Ay,  if  we  have  money  in  the  treasury ;  which  is 
but  little  likely,  if  we  have  many  more  such  holydays." 

"  You  are  ungracious,  my  Lord,"  said  the  Tribune ; 
"  and,  besides,  you  are  more  uncomplimentary  to 
Rome  than  to  ourselves.  What  citizen  would  not  part 
with  gold  to  buy  fame  and  liberty  ?  " 

"  I  know  very  few  in  Rome  that  would,"  answered 
the  Baron.  "  But  tell  me,  Tribune,  you  who  are  a 
notable  casuist,  which  is  the  best  for  a  state — that  its 
governor  should  be  over-thrifty  or  over-lavish  ?  " 

"  I  refer  the  question  to  my  friend,  Luca  di  Sa- 
velli,"  replied  Rienzi.  "  He  is  a  grand  philosopher, 
and  I  wot  well  could  explain  a  much  knottier  riddle, 
which  we  will  presently  submit  to  his  acumen." 

The  Barons,  who  had  been  much  embarrassed  by 
the  bold  speech  of  the  old  Colonna,  all  turned  their 
eyes  to  Savelli,  who  answered  with  more  composure 
than  was  anticipated. 


314  RIENZI 

"  The  question  admits  a  double  reply.  He  who  is 
born  a  ruler,  and  maintains  a  foreign  army,  governing 
by  fear,  should  be  penurious.  He  who  is  made  ruler, 
who  courts  the  people,  and  would  reign  by  love,  must 
win  their  affection  by  generosity,  and  dazzle  their 
fancies  by  pomp.  Such,  I  believe,  is  the  usual  maxim 
in  Italy,  which  is  rife  in  all  experience  of  state  wis- 
dom." 

The  Barons  unanimously  applauded  the  discreet 
reply  of  Savelli,  excepting  only  the  old  Colonna. 

"  Yet  pardon  me,  Tribune,"  said  Stephen,  "  if  I 
depart  from  the  courtier-like  decision  of  our  friend, 
and  opine,  though  with  all  due  respect,  that  even  a 
friar's  coarse  serge,*  the  parade  of  humility,  would 
better  become  thee,  than  this  gaudy  pomp,  the  pa- 
rade of  pride ! "  So  saying,  he  touched  the  large 
loose  sleeve  fringed  with  gold,  of  the  Tribune's  pur- 
ple robe. 

"  Hush,  father ! "  said  Gianni,  Colonna's  son,  col- 
ouring at  the  unprovoked  rudeness  and  dangerous  can- 
dour of  the  veteran. 

"  Nay,  it  matters  not,"  said  the  Tribune,  with 
affected  indifference,  though  his  lip  quivered,  and  his 
eye  shot  fire ;  and  then,  after  a  pause,  he  resumed  with 
an  awful  smile — "  If  the  Colonna  love  the  serge  of  the 
friar,  he  may  see  enough  of  it  ere  we  part.  And  now, 
my  Lord  Savelli,  for  my  question,  which  I  pray  you 
listen  to;  it  demands  all  your  wit.  Is  it  best  for  a 
State's  Ruler  to  be  over-forgiving,  or  over-just?  Take 
breath  to  answer :  you  look  faint — you  grow  pale — you 

*  "  Vestimenta  da  Bizoco,"  was  the  phrase  used  by  Colon- 
na; a  phrase  borrowed  from  certain  heretics  (bisocchi)  who 
affected  extreme  austerity;  afterwards  the  word  passed  into 
a  proverb. — See  the  comments  of  Zefirino  Re,  in  Vit.  di  Cola 
di  Rienzi. 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES        315 

tremble — you  cover  your  face !  Traitor  and  assassin, 
your  conscience  betrays  you !  My  Lords,  relieve  your 
accomplice,  and  take  up  the  answer." 

"  Nay,  if  we  are  discovered,"  said  the  Orsini, 
rising  in  despair,  "  we  will  not  fall  unavenged — die, 
tyrant ! " 

He  rushed  to  the  place  where  Rienzi  stood — for  the 
Tribune  also  rose, — and  made  a  thrust  at  his  breast 
with  his  dagger ;  the  steel  pierced  the  purple  robe,  yet 
glanced  harmlessly  away — and  the  Tribune  regarded 
the  disappointed  murtherer  with  a  scornful  smile. 

"  Till  yesternight,  I  never  dreamt  that  under  the 
robe  of  state  I  should  need  the  secret  corselet,"  said 
he.  "  My  Lords,  you  have  taught  me  a  dark  lesson, 
and  I  thank  ye." 

So  saying,  he  clapped  his  hands,  and  suddenly  the 
folding  doors  at  the  end  of  the  hall  flew  open,  and  dis- 
covered the  saloon  of  the  Council  hung  with  silk  of  a 
blood-red,  relieved  by  rays  of  white, — the  emblem  of 
crime  and  death.  At  a  long  table  sate  the  councillors 
in  their  robes;  at  the  bar  stood  a  ruffian  form,  which 
the  banqueters  too  well  recognised. 

"  Bid  Rodolf  of  Saxony  approach ! "  said  the 
Tribune. 

And  led  by  two  guards,  the  robber  entered  the  hall. 

"  Wretch,  you  then  betrayed  us ! "  said  one  of  the 
Frangipani. 

"  Rodolf  of  Saxony  goes  ever  to  the  highest  bid- 
der," returned  the  miscreant,  with  a  horrid  grin. 
"  You  gave  me  gold,  and  I  would  have  slain  your  foe ; 
your  foe  defeated  me ;  he  gives  me  life,  and  life  is  a 
greater  boon  than  gold !  " 

"  Ye  confess  your  crime,  my  Lords  !  Silent !  dumb  ! 
Where  is  your  wit,  Savelli  ?  Where  your  pride,  Rinal- 


316  RIENZI 

do  di  Orsini?  Gianni  Colonna,  is  your  chivalry  come 
to  this?" 

"  Oh !  "  continued  Rienzi,  with  deep  and  passionate 
bitterness;  "  oh,  my  Lords,  will  nothing  conciliate  you 
— not  to  me,  but  to  Rome?  What  hath  been  my  sin 
against  you  and  yours?  Disbanded  ruffians  (such  as 
your  accuser) — dismantled  fortresses — impartial  law — 
what  man,  in  all  the  wild  revolutions  of  Italy,  sprung 
from  the  people,  ever  yielded  less  to  their  licence? 
Not  a  coin  of  your  coffers  touched  by  wanton  power, 
— not  a  hair  of  your  heads  harmed  by  private  revenge. 
You,  Gianni  Colonna,  loaded  with  honours,  intrusted 
with  command — you,  Alphonso  di  Frangipani,  en- 
dowed with  new  principalities, — did  the  Tribune  re- 
member one  insult  he  received  from  you  as  the  Ple- 
beian ?  You  accuse  my  pride ; — was  it  my  fault  that 
ye  cringed  and  fawned  upon  my  power, — flattery  on 
your  lips,  poison  at  your  hearts?  No,  7  have  not 
offended  you ;  let  the  world  know,  that  in  me  you 
aimed  at  liberty,  justice,  law,  order,  the  restored 
grandeur,  the  renovated  rights  of  Rome  !  At  these,  the 
Abstract  and  the  Immortal — not  at  this  frail  form,  ye 
struck ; — by  the  divinity  of  these  ye  are  defeated ; — 
for  the  outraged  majesty  of  these, — criminals  and  vic- 
tims,— ye  must  die !  " 

With  these  words,  uttered  with  the  tone  and  air 
that  would  have  become  the  loftiest  spirit  of  the 
ancient  city,  Rienzi,  with  a  majestic  step,  swept  from 
the  chamber  into  the  Hall  of  Council.* 

All  that  night  the  conspirators  remained  within  that 

*  The  guilt  of  the  Barons  in  their  designed  assassination 
of  Rienzi,  though  hastily  slurred  over  by  Gibbon,  and  other 
modern  writers,  is  clearly  attested  by  Muratori,  the  Bolo- 
gnese  Chronicle,  &c. — They  even  confessed  the  crime.  (See 
Cron.  Estens:  Muratori,  torn,  xviii.  p.  442.) 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES        317 

room,  the  doors  locked  and  guarded ;  the  banquet  un- 
removed,  and  its  splendour  strangely  contrasting  the 
mood  of  the  guests. 

The  utter  prostration  and  despair  of  these  dastard 
criminals — so  unlike  the  knightly  nobles  of  France 
and  England — has  been  painted  by  the  historian  in 
odious  and  withering  colours.  The  old  Colonna  alone 
sustained  his  impetuous  and  imperious  character.  He 
strode  to  and  fro  the  room  like  a  lion  in  his  cage, 
uttering  loud  threats  of  resentment  and  defiance ;  and 
beating  at  the  door  with  his  clenched  hands,  de- 
manding egress,  and  proclaiming  the  vengeance  of 
the  Pontiff. 

The  dawn  came,  slow  and  gray  upon  that  agonised 
assembly :  and  just  as  the  last  star  faded  from  the 
melancholy  horizon,  and  by  the  wan  and  comfortless 
heaven,  they  regarded  each  other's  faces,  almost  spec- 
tral with  anxiety  and  fear,  the  great  bell  of  the  Capitol 
sounded  the  notes  in  which  they  well  recognised  the 
chime  of  death !  It  was  then  that  the  door  opened, 
and  a  drear  and  gloomy  procession  of  cordeliers,  one 
to  each  Baron,  entered  the  apartment !  At  that  spec- 
tacle, we  are  told,  the  terror  of  the  conspirators  was 
so  great,  that  it  froze  up  the  very  power  of  speech.* 
The  greater  part  at  length,  deeming  all  hope  over,  re- 
signed themselves  to  their  ghostly  confessors.  But 
when  the  friar  appointed  to  Stephen  approached  that 
passionate  old  man,  he  waved  his  hand  impatiently, 
and  said — "  Tease  me  not !  tease  me  not !  " 

"  Nay,  son,  prepare  for  the  awful  hour." 

"  Son,  indeed ! "  quoth  the  Baron.  "  I  am  old 
enough  to  be  thy  grandsire ;  and  for  the  rest,  tell  him 

*  "  Diventarono  si  gelati,  che  non  poteano  favellare." 


3i8  RIENZI 

who  sent  thee,  that  I  neither  am  prepared  for  death, 
nor  will  prepare!  I  have  made  up  my  mind  to  live 
these  twenty  years,  and  longer  too ;  if  I  catch  not  my 
death  with  the  cold  of  this  accursed  night." 

Just  at  that  moment  a  cry  that  almost  seemed  to 
rend  the  Capitol  asunder  was  heard,  as,  with  one 
voice,  the  multitude  below  yelled  forth — 

"  Death  to  the  conspirators ! — death !  death !  " 

While  this  the  scene  in  that  hall,  the  Tribune  issued 
from  his  chamber,  in  which  he  had  been  closeted  with 
his  wife  and  sister.  The  noble  spirit  of  the  one,  the 
tears  and  grief  of  the  other  (who  saw  at  one  fell  stroke 
perish  the  house  of  her  betrothed,)  had  not  worked 
without  effect  upon  a  temper,  stern  and  just  indeed, 
but  naturally  averse  from  blood;  and  a  heart  capable 
of  the  loftiest  species  of  revenge. 

He  entered  the  Council,  still  sitting,  with  a  calm 
brow,  and  even  a  cheerful  eye. 

"  Pandulfo  di  Guido,"  he  said,  turning  to  that  citi- 
zen, "  you  are  right ;  you  spoke  as  a  wise  man  and  a 
patriot,  when  you  said  that  to  cut  off  with  one  blow, 
however  merited,  the  noblest  heads  of  Rome,  would 
endanger  the  State,  sully  our  purple  with  an  indelible 
stain,  and  unite  the  nobility  of  Italy  against  us." 

"  Such,  Tribune,  was  my  argument,  though  the 
Council  have  decided  otherwise." 

"  Hearken  to  the  shouts  of  the  populace,  you  cannot 
appease  their  honest  warmth,"  said  the  demagogue 
Baroncelli. 

Many  of  the  Council  murmured  applause. 

"  Friends,"  said  the  Tribune,  with  a  solemn  and 
earnest  aspect,  "  let  not  Posterity  say  that  Liberty 
loves  blood ;  let  us  for  once  adopt  the  example  and  im- 
itate the  mercy  of  our  great  Redeemer!  We  have 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES        319 

triumphed — let  us  forbear;  we  are  saved — let  us  for- 
give ! " 

The  speech  of  the  Tribune  was  supported  by  Pan- 
dulfo,  and  others  of  the  more  mild  and  moderate  pol- 
icy ;  and  after  a  short  but  animated  discussion,  the  in- 
fluence of  Rienzi  prevailed,  and  the  sentence  of  death 
was  revoked,  but  by  a  small  majority. 

"  And  now,"  said  Rienzi,  "  let  us  be  more  than  just ; 
let  us  be  generous.  Speak — and  boldly.  Do  any  of 
ye  think  that  I  have  been  over-hard,  over-haughty 
with  these  stubborn  spirits? — I  read  your  answer  in 
your  brows ! — I  have !  Do  any  of  ye  think  this  error 
of  mine  may  have  stirred  them  to  their  dark  revenge  ? 
Do  any  of  you  deem  that  they  partake,  as  we  do,  of 
human  nature, — that  they  are  sensible  to  kindness,  that 
they  are  softened  by  generosity, — that  they  can  be 
tamed  and  disarmed  by  such  vengeance  as  is  dictated 
to  noble  foes  by  Christian  laws  ?  " 

"  I  think,"  said  Pandulfo,  after  a  pause,  "  that  it  will 
not  be  in  human  nature,  if  the  men  you  pardon,  thus 
offending  and  thus  convicted,  again  attempt  your 
life !  " 

"  Methinks,"  said  Rienzi,  "  we  must  do  even  more 
than  pardon.  The  first  great  Caesar,  when  he  did  not 
crush  a  foe,  strove  to  convert  him  to  a  friend " 

"  And  perished  by  the  attempt,"  said  Baroncelli, 
abruptly. 

Rienzi  started  and  changed  colour. 

"  If  you  would  save  these  wretched  prisoners,  better 
not  wait  till  the  fury  of  the  mob  become  ungovern- 
able," whispered  Pandulfo. 

The  Tribune  roused  himself  from  his  reverie. 

"  Pandulfo,"  said  he,  in  the  same  tone,  "  my  heart 
misgives  me — the  brood  of  serpents  are  in  my  hand — 


320  RIENZI 

I  do  not  strangle  them — they  may  sting  me  to  death, 
in  return  for  my  mercy — it  is  their  instinct !  No  mat- 
ter: it  shall  not  be  said  that  the  Roman  Tribune 
bought  with  so  many  lives  his  own  safety :  nor  shall 
it  be  written  upon  my  grave-stone,  '  Here  lies  the  cow- 
ard, who  did  not  dare  forgive.'  What,  ho!  there, 
officers,  unclose  the  doors!  My  masters,  let  us  ac- 
quaint the  prisoners  with  their  sentence." 

With  that,  Rienzi  seated  himself  on  the  chair  of 
state,  at  the  head  of  the  table,  and  the  sun,  now  risen, 
cast  its  rays  over  the  blood-red  walls,  in  which  the 
Barons,  marshalled  in  order  into  the  chamber,  thought 
to  read  their  fate. 

"  My  Lords,"  said  the  Tribune,  "  ye  have  offended 
the  laws  of  God  and  man ;  but  God  teaches  man  the 
quality  of  mercy.  Learn  at  last,  that  I  bear  a  charmed 
life.  Nor  is  he  whom,  for  high  purposes,  Heaven 
hath  raised  from  the  cottage  to  the  popular  throne, 
without  invisible  aid  and  spiritual  protection.  If 
hereditary  monarchs  are  deemed  sacred,  how  much 
more  one  in  whose  power  the  divine  hand  hath  writ 
its  witness !  Yes,  over  him  who  lives  but  for  his  coun- 
try, whose  greatness  is  his  country's  gift,  whose  life 
is  his  country's  liberty,  watch  the  souls  of  the  just,  and 
the  unsleeping  eyes  of  the  sworded  seraphim !  Taught 
by  your  late  failure  and  your  present  peril,  bid  your 
anger  against  me  cease;  respect  the  laws,  revere  the 
freedom  of  your  city,  and  think  that  no  state  presents 
a  nobler  spectacle  than  men  born  as  ye  are — a  patrician 
and  illustrious  order — using  your  power  to  protect 
your  city,  your  wealth  to  nurture  its  arts,  your  chivalry 
to  protect  its  laws !  Take  back  your  swords — and  the 
first  man  who  strikes  against  the  liberties  of  Rome, 
let  him  be  your  victim ;  even  though  that  victim  be 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES        321 

the  Tribune.  Your  cause  has  been  tried — your  sen- 
tence is  pronounced.  Renew  your  oath  to  forbear  all 
hostility,  private  or  public,  against  the  government 
and  the  magistrates  of  Rome,  and  ye  are  pardoned — 
ye  are  free  !  " 

Amazed,  bewildered,  the  Barons  mechanically  bent 
the  knee :  the  friars  who  had  received  their  confes- 
sions, administered  the  appointed  oath  ;  and  while,  with 
white  lips,  they  muttered  the  solemn  words,  they 
heard  below  the  roar  of  the  multitude  for  their  blood. 

This  ceremony  ended,  the  Tribune  passed  into  the 
banquet-hall,  which  conducted  to  a  balcony,  whence 
he  was  accustomed  to  address  the  people ;  and  never, 
perhaps,  was  his  wonderful  mastery  over  the  passions 
of  an  audience  (ad  persuadendum  efhcax  dictator,  quoque 
dulcis  ac  lepidus)*  more  greatly  needed  or  more  em- 
inently shown,  than  on  that  day;  for  the  fury  of  the 
people  was  at  its  height,  and  it  was  long  ere  he  suc- 
ceeded in  turning  it  aside.  Before  he  concluded, 
however,  every  wave  of  the  wild  sea  lay  hushed. — 
The  orator  lived  to  stand  on  the  same  spot,  to  plead 
for  a  life  nobler  than  those  he  now  saved, — and  to 
plead  unheard  and  in  vain ! 

As  soon  as  the  Tribune  saw  the  favourable  moment 
had  arrived,  the  Barons  were  admitted  into  the  bal- 
cony : — in  the  presence  of  the  breathless  thousands, 
they  solemnly  pledged  themselves  to  protect  the  Good 
Estate.  And  thus  the  morning  which  seemed  to  dawn 
upon  their  execution  witnessed  their  reconciliation 
with  the  people. 

The  crowd  dispersed,  the  majority  soothed  and 
pleased; — the  more  sagacious,  vexed  and  dissatisfied. 

*  Petrarch  of  Rienzi. 


322  RIENZI 

"  He  has  but  increased  the  smoke  and  the  flame 
which  he  was  not  able  to  extinguish,"  growled  Cecco 
del  Vecchio ;  and  the  smith's  appropriate  saying  passed 
into  a  proverb  and  a  prophecy. 

Meanwhile,  the  Tribune,  conscious  at  least  that  he 
had  taken  the  more  generous  course,  broke  up  the 
Council,  and  retired  to  the  chamber  where  Nina  and 
his  sister  waited  him.  These  beautiful  young  women 
had  conceived  for  each  other  the  tenderest  affection. 
And  their  differing  characters,  both  of  mind  and 
feature,  seemed  by  contrast  to  heighten  the  charms 
of  both;  as  in  a  skilful  jewellery,  the  pearl  and  diamond 
borrow  beauty  from  each  other. 

And  as  Irene  now  turned  her  pale  countenance  and 
streaming  eyes  from  the  bosom  to  which  she  had 
clung  for  support,  the  timid  sister,  anxious,  doubtful, 
wistful; — the  proud  wife,  sanguine  and  assured,  as  if 
never  diffident  of  the  intentions  nor  of  the  power  of 
her  Rienzi: — the  contrast  would  have  furnished  to  a 
painter  no  unworthy  incarnation  of  the  Love  that 
hopeth,  and  the  Love  that  feareth,  all  things. 

"  Be  cheered,  my  sweet  sister,"  said  the  Tribune, 
first  caught  by  Irene's  imploring  look ;  "  not  a  hair 
on  the  heads  of  those  who  boast  the  name  of  him 
thou  lovest  so  well  is  injured. — Thank  Heaven,"  as  his 
sister,  with  a  low  cry,  rushed  into  his  arms,  "  that  it 
was  against  my  life  they  conspired !  Had  it  been  an- 
other Roman's,  mercy  might  have  been  a  crime! 
Dearest,  may  Adrian  love  thee  half  as  well  as  I ;  and 
yet,  my  sister  and  my  child,  none  can  know  thy  soft 
soul  like  he  who  watched  over  it  since  its  first  blossom 
expanded  to  the  sun.  My  poor  brother !  had  he  lived, 
your  counsel  had  been  his ;  and  methinks  his  gentle 
spirit  often  whispers  away  the  sternness  which,  other- 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES        323 

wise,  would  harden  over  mine.  Nina,  my  queen,  my 
inspirer,  my  monitor — ever  thus  let  thy  heart,  mascu- 
line in  my  distress,  be  woman's  in  my  power;  and  be 
to  me,  with  Irene,  upon  earth,  what  my  brother  is  in 
heaven !  " 

The  Tribune,  exhausted  by  the  trials  of  the  night, 
retired  for  a  few  hours  to  rest ;  and  as  Nina,  encircling 
him  within  her  arms,  watched  over  his  noble  counte- 
nance— care  hushed,  ambition  laid  at  rest,  its  serenity 
had  something  almost  of  sublime.  And  tears  of  that 
delicious  pride,  which  woman  sheds  for  the  hero  of  her 
dreams,  stood  heavy  in  the  wife's  eyes,  as  she  rejoiced 
more,  in  the  deep  stillness  of  her  heart,  at  the  preroga- 
tive, alone  hers,  of  sharing  his  solitary  hours,  than  in 
all  the  rank  to  which  his  destiny  had  raised  her,  and 
which  her  nature  fitted  her  at  once  to  adorn  and  to 
enjoy.  In  that  calm  and  lonely  hour  she  beguiled  her 
heart  by  waking  dreams,  vainer  than  the  sleeper's ;  and 
pictured  to  herself  the  long  career  of  glory,  the  august 
decline  of  peace,  which  were  to  await  her  lord. 

And  while  she  thus  watched  and  thus  dreamed,  the 
cloud,  as  yet  no  bigger  than  a  man's  hand,  darkened 
the  horizon  of  a  fate  whose  sunshine  was  well-nigh 
past! 

_^^^_^^^^^^^^__ 

CHAPTER   II 

THE    FLIGHT 

Fretting  his  proud  heart,  as  a  steed  frets  on  the  bit, 
old  Colonna  regained  his  palace.  To  him,  innocent  of 
the  proposed  crime  of  his  kin  and  compeers,  the  whole 
scene  of  the  night  and  morning  presented  but  one 
feature  of  insult  and  degradation.  Scarce  was  he  in 


324  RIENZI 

his  palace,  ere  he  ordered  couriers,  in  whom  he  knew 
he  could  confide,  to  be  in  preparation  for  his  summons. 
"  This  to  Avignon,"  said  he  to  himself,  as  he  con- 
cluded an  epistle  to  the  Pontiff. — "  We  will  see 
whether  the  friendship  of  the  great  house  of  the  Colon- 
na  will  outweigh  the  frantic  support  of  the  rabble's 
puppet. — This  to  Palestrina — the  rock  is  inaccessible ! 
— This  to  John  di  Vico,  he  may  be  relied  upon,  traitor 
though  he  be ! — This  to  Naples ;  the  Colonna  will  dis- 
own the  Tribune's  ambassador,  if  he  throw  not  up  the 
trust  and  hasten  hither,  not  a  lover  but  a  soldier! — 
And  may  this  find  Walter  de  Montreal !  Ah,  a  pre- 
cious messenger  he  sent  us,  but  I  will  forgive  all — 
all,  for  a  thousand  lances."  And  as  with  trembling 
hands  he  twined  the  silk  round  his  letters,  he  bade 
his  pages  invite  to  his  board,  next  day,  all  the  signors 
who  had  been  implicated  with  him  on  the  previous 
night. 

The  Barons  came — far  more  enraged  at  the  disgrace 
of  pardon,  than  grateful  for  the  boon  of  mercy.  Their 
fears  combined  with  their  pride ;  and  the  shouts  of  the 
mob,  the  whine  of  the  cordeliers,  still  ringing  in  their 
ears,  they  deemed  united  resistance  the  only  course  left 
to  protect  their  lives,  and  avenge  their  affront. 

To  them  the  public  pardon  of  the  Tribune  seemed 
only  a  disguise  to  private  revenge.  All  they  believed 
was,  that  Rienzi  did  not  dare  to  destroy  them  in  the 
face  of  day ;  forgetfulness  and  forgiveness  appeared  to 
them  as  the  means  designed  to  lull  their  vigilance, 
while  abasing  their  pride :  and  the  knowledge  of  crime 
detected  forbade  them  all  hope  of  safety.  The  hand 
of  their  own  assassin  might  be  armed  against  them, 
or  they  might  be  ruined  singly,  one  by  one,  as  was 
the  common  tyrant-craft  of  that  day.  Singularly 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES        325 

enough,  Luca  di  Savelli  was  the  most  urgent  for  im- 
mediate rebellion.  The  fear  of  death  made  the  cow- 
ard brave. 

Unable  even  to  conceive  the  romantic  generosity  of 
the  Tribune,  the  Barons  were  yet  more  alarmed  when, 
the  next  day,  Rienzi,  summoning  them  one  by  one  to 
a  private  audience,  presented  them  with  gifts,  and  bade 
them  forget  the  past :  excused  himself  rather  than 
them,  and  augmented  their  offices  and  honours. 

In  the  Quixotism  of  a  heart  to  which  royalty  was 
natural,  he  thought  that  there  was  no  medium  course ; 
and  that  the  enmity  he  would  not  silence  by  death, 
he  could  crush  by  confidence  and  favours.  Such  con- 
duct from  a  born  king  to  hereditary  inferiors  might 
have  been  successful ;  but  the  generosity  of  one  who 
has  abruptly  risen  over  his  lords,  is  but  the  ostentation 
of  insult.  Rienzi  in  this,  and,  perhaps,  in  forgiveness 
itself,  committed  a  fatal  error  of  policy,  which  the  dark 
sagacity  of  a  Visconti,  or,  in  later  times,  of  a  Borgia, 
would  never  have  perpetrated.  But  it  was  the  error 
of  a  bright  and  a  great  mind. 

Nina  was  seated  in  the  grand  saloon  of  the  palace — 
it  was  the  day  of  reception  for  the  Roman  ladies. 

The  attendance  was  so  much  less  numerous  than 
usual  that  it  startled  her,  and  she  thought  there  was  a 
coldness  and  restraint  in  the  manner  of  the  visitors 
present,  which  somewhat  stung  her  vanity. 

"  I  trust  we  have  not  offended  the  Signora  Colonna," 
she  said  to  the  Lady  of  Gianni,  Stephen's  son.  "  She 
was  wont  to  grace  our  halls,  and  we  miss  much  her 
stately  presence." 

"  Madam,  my  Lord's  mother  is  unwell ! " 

"  Is  she  so  ?  We  will  send  for  her  more  welcome 
news.  Methinks  we  are  deserted  to-day." 


326  RIENZI 

As  she  spoke,  she  carelessly  dropped  her  handker- 
chief— the  haughty  dame  of  the  Colonna  bent  not — 
not  a  hand  stirred ;  and  the  Tribunessa  looked  for  a 
moment  surprised  and  disconcerted.  Her  eye  roving 
over  the  throng,  she  perceived  several,  whom  she 
knew  as  the  wives  of  Rienzi's  foes,  whispering  to- 
gether with  meaning  glances,  and  more  than  one 
malicious  sneer  at  her  mortification  was  apparent. 
She  recovered  herself  instantly,  and  said  to  the  Sig- 
nora  Frangipani,  with  a  smile,  "  May  we  be  a  partaker 
of  your  mirth  ?  You  seem  to  have  chanced  on  some 
gay  thought,  which  it  were  a  sin  not  to  share  freely." 

The  lady  she  addressed  coloured  slightly,  and  re- 
plied, "  We  were  thinking,  madam,  that  had  the  Trib- 
une been  present,  his  vow  of  knighthood  would  have 
been  called  into  requisition." 

"  And  how,  Signora  ?  " 

"  It  would  have  been  his  pleasing  duty,  madam,  to 
succour  the  distressed."  And  the  Signora  glanced 
significantly  on  the  kerchief  still  on  the  floor. 

"  You  designed  me,  then,  this  slight,  Signoras," 
said  Nina,  rising  with  great  majesty.  "  I  know  not 
whether  your  Lords  are  equally  bold  to  the  Tribune; 
but  this  I  know,  that  the  Tribune's  wife  can  in  future 
forgive  your  absence.  Four  centuries  ago,  a  Fran- 
gipani might  well  have  stooped  to  a  Raselli ;  to-day, 
the  dame  of  a  Roman  Baron  might  acknowledge  a 
superior  in  the  wife  of  the  first  magistrate  of  Rome.  I 
compel  not  your  courtesy,  nor  seek  it." 

"  We  have  gone  too  far,"  whispered  one  of  the 
ladies  to  her  neighbour.  "  Perhaps  the  enterprise 
may  not  succeed ;  and  then " 

Further  remark  was  cut  short  by  the  sudden  en- 
trance of  the  Tribune.  He  entered  with  great  haste, 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES        327 

and  on  his  brow  was  that  dark  frown  which  none  ever 
saw  unquailing. 

"  How,  fair  matrons !  "  said  he,  looking  round  the 
room  with  a  rapid  glance,  "  ye  have  not  deserted  us 
yet?  By  the  blessed  cross,  your  Lords  pay  a  compli- 
ment to  our  honour,  to  leave  us  such  lovely  hostages, 
or  else,  God's  truth,  they  are  ungrateful  husbands.  So, 
madam,"  turning  sharp  round  to  the  wife  of  Gianni 
Colonna,  "  your  husband  is  fled  to  Palestrina ;  yours, 
Signora  Orsini,  to  Marino ;  yours  with  him,  fair  bride 

of  Frangipani, — ye  came  hither  to .  But  ye  are 

sacred  even  from  a  word !  " 

The  Tribune  paused  a  moment,  evidently  striv- 
ing to  suppress  his  emotion,  as  he  observed  the  terror 
he  had  excited — his  eye  fell  upon  Nina,  who,  forget- 
ting her  previous  vexation,  regarded  him  with  anxious 
amazement.  "  Yes,"  said  he  to  her,  "  you  alone,  per- 
haps, of  this  fair  assemblage,  know  not  that  the  nobles 
whom  I  lately  released  from  the  headsman's  gripe  are 
a  second  time  forsworn.  They  have  left  home  in  the 
dead  of  the  night,  and  already  the  Heralds  proclaim 
them  traitors  and  rebels.  Rienzi  forgives  no  more!  " 

"  Tribune,"  exclaimed  the  Signora  Frangipani,  who 
had  more  bold  blood  in  her  veins  than  her  whole 
house,  "  were  I  of  thine  own  sex,  I  would  cast  the 
words,  Traitor  and  Rebel,  given  to  my  Lord,  in  thine 
own  teeth! — Proud  man,  the  Pontiff  soon  will  fulfil 
that  office !  " 

"  Your  Lord  is  blest  with  a  dove,  fair  one,"  said 
the  Tribune,  scornfully.  "  Ladies,  fear  not,  while 
Rienzi  lives,  the  wife  even  of  his  worst  foe  is  safe  and 
honoured.  The  crowd  will  be  here  anon ;  our  guards 
shall  attend  ye  home  in  safety,  or  this  palace  may  be 
your  shelter — for,  I  warn  ye,  that  your  Lords  have 


328  RIENZI 

rushed  into  a  great  peril.  And  ere  many  days  be 
past,  the  streets  of  Rome  may  be  as  rivers  of  blood." 

"  We  accept  your  offer,  Tribune,"  said  the  Signora 
Frangipani,  who  was  touched,  and,  in  spite  of  herself, 
awed  by  the  Tribune's  manner.  And  as  she  spoke, 
she  dropped  on  one  knee,  picked  up  the  kerchief,  and, 
presenting  it  respectfully  to  Nina,  said,  "  ^adam,  for- 
give me.  I  alone  of  these  present  respect  you  more 
in  danger  than  in  pride." 

"  And  I,"  returned  Nina,  as  she  leaned  in  graceful 
confidence  on  Rienzi's  arm,  "  I  reply,  that  if  there  be 
danger,  the  more  need  of  pride." 

All  that  day  and  all  that  night  rang  the  great  bell 
of  the  Capitol.  But  on  the  following  daybreak,  the 
assemblage  was  thin  and  scattered ;  there  was  a  great 
fear  stricken  into  the  hearts  of  the  people,  by  the 
flight  of  the  Barons,  and  they  bitterly  and  loudly  up- 
braided Rienzi  for  sparing  them  to  this  opportunity 
of  mischief.  That  day  the  rumours  continued ;  the 
murmurers  for  the  most  part  remained  within  their 
houses,  or  assembled  in  listless  and  discontented 
troops.  The  next  day  dawned ;  the  same  lethargy  pre- 
vailed. The  Tribune  summoned  his  Council,  (which 
was  a  Representative  assembly.) 

"  Shall  we  go  forth  as  we  are,"  said  he,  "  with  such 
few  as  will  follow  the  Roman  standard !  " 

"  No,"  replied  Pandulfo,  who,  by  nature  timid,  was 
yet  well  acquainted  with  the  disposition  of  the  people, 
and  therefore  a  sagacious  counsellor.  "  Let  us  hold 
back;  let  us  wait  till  the  rebels  commit  themselves  by 
some  odious  outrage,  and  then  hatred  will  unite  the 
waverers,  and  resentment  lead  them." 

This  counsel  prevailed ;  the  event  proved  its  wis- 
dom. To  give  excuse  and  dignity  to  the  delay,  mes- 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES        329 

sengers  were  sent  to  Marino,  whither  the  chief  part 
of  the  Barons  had  fled,  and  which  was  strongly  for- 
tified, demanding  their  immediate  return. 

On  the  day  on  which  the  haughty  refusal  of  the  in- 
surgents was  brought  to  Rienzi,  came  fugitives  from 
all  parts  of  the  Campagna.  Houses  burned — convents 
and  vineyards  pillaged — cattle  and  horses  seized — at- 
tested the  warfare  practised  by  the  Barons,  and  ani- 
mated the  drooping  Romans,  by  showing  the  mercies 
they  might  expect  for  themselves.  That  evening,  of 
their  own  accord,  the  Romans  rushed  into  the  place 
of  the  Capitol : — Rinaldo  Orsini  had  seized  a  fortress 
in  the  immediate  neighbourhood  of  Rome,  and  had  set 
fire  to  a  tower,  the  flames  of  which  were  visible  to  the 
city.  The  tenant  of  the  tower,  a  noble  lady,  old  and 
widowed,  was  burnt  alive.  Then  rose  the  wild  clam- 
our— the  mighty  wrath — the  headlong  fury.  The 
hour  for  action  had  arrived.* 


CHAPTER    III 

THE    BATTLE 

"  I  have  dreamed  a  dream,"  cried  Rienzi,  leaping 
from  his  bed.  "  The  lion-hearted  Boniface,  foe  and 
victim  of  the  Colonna,  hath  appeared  to  me,  and  prom- 
ised victory. f  Nina,  prepare  the  laurel-wreath:  this 
day  victory  shall  be  ours !  " 

*  "  Ardea  terre,  arse  la  Castelluzza  e  case,  e  uomini.  Non 
si  schifo  di  ardere  una  nobile  donna  Vedova,  veterana,  in  una 
torre.  Per  tale  crudeltade  li  Romani  furo  piu  irati,"  &c. — 
Vita  di  C.  di  Rienzi,  lib.  i.  cap.  20. 

t  "  In  questa  notte  mi  e  apparito  Santo  Bonifacio  Papa," 
&c. — Fit.  di  Col.  Rien.  cap.  32. 


330  RIENZI 

"  Oh,  Rienzi!  to-day?" 

"  Yes !  hearken  to  the  bell — hearken  to  the  trumpet. 
Nay,  I  hear  even  now  the  impatient  hoofs  of  my  white 
war-steed!  One  kiss,  Nina,  ere  I  arm  for  victory, — 
stay — <omfort  poor  Irene ;  let  me  not  see  her — she 
weeps  that  my  foes  are  akin  to  her  betrothed ;  I  cannot 
brook  her  tears  ;  I  watched  her  in  her  cradle.  To-day, 
I  must  have  no  weakness  on  my  soul !  Knaves,  twice 
perjured ! — wolves,  never  to  be  tamed ! — shall  I  meet 
ye  at  last  sword  to  sword?  Away,  sweet  Nina,  to 
Irene,  quick !  Adrian  is  at  Naples,  and  were  he  in 
Rome,  her  lover  is  sacred,  though  fifty  times  a  Co- 
lonna." 

With  that,  the  Tribune  passed  into  his  wardrobe, 
where  his  pages  and  gentlemen  attended  with  his 
armour.  "  I  hear,  by  our  spies,"  said  he,  "  that  they 
will  be  at  our  gates  ere  noon — four  thousand  foot, 
seven  hundred  horsemen.  We  will  give  them  a  hearty 
welcome,  my  masters.  How,  Angelo  Villani,  my 
pretty  page,  what  do  you  out  of  your  lady's  serv- 
ice?" 

"  I  would  fain  see  a  warrior  arm  for  Rome,"  said  the 
boy,  with  a  boy's  energy. 

"  Bless  thee,  my  child ;  there  spoke  one  of  Rome's 
true  sons !  " 

"  And  the  Signora  has  promised  me  that  I  shall  go 
with  her  guard  to  the  gates,  to  hear  the  news " 

"  And  report  the  victory  ? — thou  shalt.  But  they 
must  not  let  thee  come  within  shaft-shot.  What !  my 
Pandulfo,  thou  in  mail  ?  " 

"  Rome  requires  every  man,"  said  the  citizen,  whose 
weak  nerves  were  strung  by  the  contagion  of  the  gen- 
eral enthusiasm. 

"  She  doth — and  once  more  I  am  proud  to  be  a 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES        331 

Roman.  Now,  gentles,  the  Dalmaticum :  *  I  would 
that  every  foe  should  know  Rienzi ;  and,  by  the  Lord  of 
Hosts,  fighting  at  the  head  of  the  imperial  people, 
'  I  have  a  right  to  the  imperial  robe.  Are  the  friars 
prepared?  Our  march  to  the  gates  shall  be  preceded 
by  a  solemn  hymn — so  fought  our  sires." 

"  Tribune,  John  di  Vico  is  arrived  with  a  hundred 
horse  to  support  the  Good  Estate." 

"  He  hath ! — The  Lord  has  delivered  us  then  of  a 
foe,  and  given  our  dungeons  a  traitor! — Bring  hither 
yon  casket,  Angelo. — So — Hark  thee !  Pandulfo,  read 
this  letter." 

The  citizen  read,  with  surprise  and  consterna- 
tion, the  answer  of  the  wily  Prefect  to  the  Colonna's 
epistle. 

"  He  promises  the  Baron  to  desert  to  him  in  the 
battle,  with  the  Prefect's  banner,"  said  Pandulfo. 
"What  is  to  be  done?" 

"  What ! — take  my  signet — here — see  him  lodged 
forthwith  in  the  prison  of  the  Capitol.  Bid  his  train 
leave  Rome,  and  if  found  acting  with  the  Barons,  warn 
them  that  their  Lord  dies.  Go — see  to  it  without  a 
moment's  delay.  Meanwhile,  to  the  chapel — we  will 
hear  mass." 

Within  an  hour  the  Roman  army — vast,  miscel- 
laneous— old  men  and  boys,  mingled  with  the  vigour 
of  life,  were  on  their  march  to  the  Gate  of  San  Lo- 
renzo ;  of  their  number,  which  amounted  to  twenty 
thousand  foot,  not  one-sixth  could  be  deemed  men-at- 
arms  ;  but  the  cavalry  were  well  equipped,  and  con- 
sisted of  the  lesser  Barons  and  the  more  opulent  citi- 

*A  robe  or  mantle  of  white,  borne  by  Rienzi;  at  one  time 
belonging  to  the  sacerdotal  office,  afterwards  an  emblem  of 
empire. 


332  RIENZI 

zens.  At  the  head  of  these  rode  the  Tribune  in  com- 
plete armour,  and  wearing  on  his  casque  a  wreath  of 
oak  and  olive  leaves,  wrought  in  silver.  Before  him 
waved  the  great  gonfalon  of  Rome,  while  in  front  of 
this  multitudinous  array  marched  a  procession  of 
monks,  of  the  order  of  St.  Francis,  (for  the  ecclesias- 
tical body  of  Rome  went  chiefly  with  the  popular 
spirit,  and  its  enthusiastic  leader,) — slowly  chanting 
the  following  hymn,  which  was  made  inexpressibly 
startling  and  imposing  at  the  close  of  each  stanza,  by 
the  clash  of  arms,  the  blast  of  trumpets,  and  the  deep 
roll  of  the  drum ;  which  formed,  as  it  were,  a  martial 
chorus  to  the  song : — 

ROMAN   WAR-SONG 

i 

March,  march  for  your  hearths  and  your  altars! 
Cursed  to  all  time  be  the  dastard  that  falters, 
Never  on  earth  may  his  sins  be  forgiven 
Death  on  his  soul,  shut  the  portals  of  heaven! 
A  curse  on  his  heart,  and  a  curse  on  his  brain! — 
Who  strikes  not  for  Rome,  shall  to  Rome  be  her  Cain! 
Breeze  fill  our  banners,  sun  gild  our  spears, 
Spirito  Santo,  Cavaliers!  * 
Blow,  trumpets,  blow, 
Blow,  trumpets,  blow, 

Gaily  to  glory  we  come; 
Like  a  king  in  his  pomp, 
To  the  blast  of  the  tromp, 

And  the  roar  of  the  mighty  drum! 
Breeze  fill  our  banners,  sun  gild  our  spears, 
Spirito  Santo,  Cavaliers! 

*  Rienzi's  word  of  battle  was  Spirito  Santo  Cavaliere,  i.  e. 
Cavalier  in  the  singular  number.  The  plural  number  has 
been  employed  in  the  text,  as  somewhat  more  animated,  and 
therefore  better  adapted  to  the  kind  of  poetry  into  the  service 
of  which  the  watchword  has  been  pressed. 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES        333 


March,  march  for  your  Freedom  and  Laws! 
Earth  is  your  witness — all  Earth  is  your  cause! 
Seraph  and  saint  from  their  glory  shall  heed  ye, 
The  angel  that  smote  the  Assyrian  shall  lead  ye; 
To  the  Christ  of  the  Cross  man  is  never  so  holy 
As  in  braving  the  proud,  in  defence  of  the  lowly! 
Breeze  fill  our  banners,  sun  gild  our  spears, 
Spirito  Santo,  Cavaliers! 
Blow,  trumpets,  blow, 
Blow,  trumpets,  blow, 

Gaily  to  glory  we  come; 
Like  a  king  in  his  pomp, 
To  the  blast  of  the  tromp, 

And  the  roar  of  the  mighty  drum! 
Breeze  fill  our  banners,  sun  gild  our  spears, 
Spirito  Santo,  Cavaliers! 

3 

March,  march!  ye  are  sons  of  the  Roman, 
The  sound  of  whose  step  was  as  fate  to  the  foeman! 
Whose  realm,  save  the  air  and  the  wave,  had  no  wall, 
As  he  strode  through  the  world  like  a  lord  in  his  hall; 
Though    your    fame   hath    sunk   down    to    the    night   of 

the  grave, 

It  shall  rise  from  the  field  like  the  sun  from  th^  wave. 
Breeze  fill  our  banners,  sun  gild  our  spears, 
Spirito  Santo,  Cavaliers! 
Blow,  trumpets,  blow, 
Blow,  trumpets,  blow, 

Gaily  to  glory  we  come; 
Like  a  king  in  his  pomp, 
To  the  blast  of  the  tromp, 

And  the  roar  of  the  mighty  drum! 
Breeze  fill  our  banners,  sun  gild  our  spears, 
Spirito  Santo,  Cavaliers! 

In  this  order  they  reached  the  wide  waste  that  ruin 
and  devastation  left  within  the  gates,  and,  marshalled 


334  RIENZI 

in  long  lines  on  either  side,  extending  far  down  the 
vistaed  streets,  and  leaving  a  broad  space  in  the  centre, 
awaited  the  order  of  their  leader. 

"  Throw  open  the  gates,  and  admit  the  foe !  "  cried 
Rienzi,  with  a  loud  voice ;  as  the  trumpets  of  the 
Barons  announced  their  approach. 

Meanwhile  the  insurgent  Patricians,  who  had 
marched  that  morning  from  a  place  called  the  Monu- 
ment, four  miles  distant,  came  gallantly  and  boldly  on. 

With  old  Stephen,  whose  great  height,  gaunt  frame, 
and  lordly  air,  shewed  well  in  his  gorgeous  mail,  rode 
his  sons, — the  Frangipani  and  the  Savelli,  and  Gior- 
dano Orsini,  brother  to  Rinaldo. 

"  To-day  the  tyrant  shall  perish !  "  said  the  proud 
Baron ;  "  and  the  flag  of  the  Colonna  shall  wave  from 
the  Capitol." 

"  The  flag  of  the  Bear,"  said  Giordano  Orsini, 
angrily. — "  The  victory  will  not  be  yours  alone,  my 
Lord !  " 

"  Our  house  ever  took  precedence  in  Rome,"  re- 
plied the  Colonna,  haughtily. 

"  Never,  while  one  stone  of  the  palaces  of  the  Orsini 
stands  upon  another." 

"  Hush !  "  said  Luca  di  Savelli ;  "  are  ye  dividing 
the  skin  while  the  lion  lives?  We  shall  have  fierce 
work  to-day." 

"  Not  so,"  said  the  old  Colonna ;  "  John  di  Vico  will 
turn,  with  his  Romans,  at  the  first  onset,  and  some  of 
the  malcontents  within  have  promised  to  open  the 
gates. — How,  knave  ?  "  as  a  scout  rode  up  breathless 
to  the  Baron.  "  What  tidings  ?  " 

"  The  gates  are  opened — not  a  spear  gleams  from 
the  walls!" 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES        335 

"  Did  I  not  tell  ye,  Lords  ?  "  said  the  Colonna,  turn- 
ing round  triumphantly.  "  Methinks  we  shall  win 
Rome  without  a  single  blow. — Grandson,  where  now 
are  thy  silly  forebodings  ?  "  This  was  said  to  Pietro, 
one  of  his  grandsons — the  first-born  of  Gianni — a 
comely  youth,  not  two  weeks  wedded,  who  made  no 
reply.  "  My  little  Pietro  here,"  continued  the  Baron, 
speaking  to  his  comrades,  "  is  so  new  a  bridegroom, 
that  last  night  he  dreamed  of  his  bride;  and  deems  it, 
poor  lad,  a  portent." 

"  She  was  in  deep  mourning,  and  glided  from  my 
arms,  uttering  'Woe,  woe,  to  the  Colonna!'"  said 
the  young  man,  solemnly. 

"  I  have  lived  nearly  ninety  years,"  replied  the  old 
man,  "  and  I  may  have  dreamed,  therefore,  some  forty 
thousand  dreams ;  of  which,  two  came  true,  and  the 
rest  were  false.  Judge,  then,  what  chances  are  in 
favour  of  the  science !  " 

Thus  conversing,  they  approached  within  bow-shot 
of  the  gates,  which  were  still  open.  All  was  silent  as 
death.  The  army,  which  was  composed  chiefly  of  for- 
eign mercenaries,  halted  in  deliberation — when,  lo ! — a 
torch  was  suddenly  cast  on  high  over  the  walls ;  it 
gleamed  a  moment — and  then  hissed  in  the  miry  pool 
below. 

"  It  is  the  signal  of  our  friends  within,  as  agreed 
on,"  cried  old  Colonna.  "  Pietro,  advance  with  your 
company !  "  The  young  nobleman  closed  his  visor, 
put  himself  at  the  head  of  the  band  under  his  com- 
mand ;  and,  with  his  lance  in  his  rest,  rode  in  a  half 
gallop  to  the  gates.  The  morning  had  been  clouded 
and  overcast,  and  the  sun,  appearing  only  at  intervals, 
now  broke  out  in  a  bright  stream  of  light — as  it  glit- 
tered on  the  waving  plume  and  shining  mail  of  the 


336  RIENZI 

young  horseman,  disappearing  under  the  gloomy  arch, 
several  paces  in  advance  of  his  troop.  On  swept  his 
followers — forward  went  the  cavalry  headed  by  Gianni 
Colonna,  Pietro's  father. — There  was  a  minute's 
silence,  broken  only  by  the  clatter  of  the  arms,  and 
tramp  of  hoofs, — when  from  within  the  walls  rose  the 
abrupt  cry — "  Rome,  the  Tribune,  and  the  People ! 
Spirito  Santo,  Cavaliers! "  The  main  body  halted 
aghast.  Suddenly  Gianni  Colonna  was  seen  flying 
backward  from  the  gate  at  full  speed. 

"  My  son,  my  son !  "  he  cried,  "  they  have  murdered 
him;" — he  halted  abrupt  and  irresolute,  then  adding, 
"  But  I  will  avenge !  "  wheeled  round,  and  spurred 
again  through  the  arch, — when  a  huge  machine  of 
iron,  shaped  as  a  portcullis,  suddenly  descended  upon 
the  unhappy  father,  and  crushed  man  and  horse  to 
the  ground — one  blent,  mangled,  bloody  mass. 

The  old  Colonna  saw,  and  scarce  believed  his  eyes ; 
and  ere  his  troop  recovered  its  stupor,  the  machine 
rose,  and  over  the  corpse  dashed  the  Popular  Arma- 
ment. Thousands  upon  thousands,  they  came  on ;  a 
wild,  clamorous,  roaring  stream.  They  poured  on  all 
sides  upon  their  enemies,  who  drawn  up  in  steady  dis- 
cipline, and  clad  in  complete  mail,  received  and  broke 
their  charge. 

"  Revenge,  and  the  Colonna !  "— "  The  Bear  and  the 
Orsini !  "— "  Charity  and  the  Frangipani !  "  *  "  Strike 
for  the  Snakef  and  the  Savelli !  "  were  then  heard  on 
high,  mingled  with  the  German  and  hoarse  shout, 
"  Full  purses,  and  the  Three  Kings  of  Cologne."  The 

9 

*  Who  had  taken  their  motto  from  some  fabled  ancestor 
who  had  broken  bread  with  a  beggar  in  a  time  of  famine. 

t  The  Lion  was,  however,  the  animal  usually  arrogated  by 
the  heraldic  vanity  of  the  Savelli. 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES        337 

Romans,  rather  ferocious  than  disciplined,  fell  butch- 
ered in  crowds  round  the  ranks  of  the  mercenaries: 
but  as  one  fell,  another  succeeded ;  and  still  burst  with 
undiminished  fervour  the  counter  cry  of  "  Rome,  the 
Tribune,  and  the  People  ! — Spirito  Santo,  Cavaliers  I  " 
Exposed  to  every  shaft  and  every  sword  by  his  em- 
blematic diadem  and  his  imperial  robe,  the  fierce 
Rienzi  led  on  each  assault,  wielding  an  enormous  bat- 
tle-axe, for  the  use  of  which  the  Italians  were  cele- 
brated, and  which  he  regarded  as  a  national  weapon. 
Inspired  by  every  darker  and  sterner  instinct  of  his 
nature,  his  blood  heated,  his  passions  aroused,  fighting 
as  a  citizen  for  liberty,  as  a  monarch  for  his  crown,  his 
daring  seemed  to  the  astonished  foe  as  that  of  one 
frantic ;  his  preservation  that  of  one  inspired :  now 
here,  now  there;  wherever  flagged  his  own,  or  failed 
the  opposing,  force,  glittered  his  white  robe,  and  rose 
his  bloody  battle-axe ;  but  his  fury  seemed  rather 
directed  against  the  chiefs  than  the  herd;  and  still 
where  his  charger  wheeled  was  heard  his  voice, 
"  Where  is  a  Colonna?  "— "  Defiance  to  the  Orsini !  " 
— "  Spirito  Santo,  Cavaliers! "  Three  times  was  the 
sally  led  from  the  gate ;  three  times  were  the  Romans 
beaten  back ;  and  on  the  third,  the  gonfalon,  borne  be- 
fore the  Tribune,  was  cloven  to  the  ground.  Then, 
for  the  first  time,  he  seemed  amazed  and  alarmed,  and, 
raising  his  eyes  to  heaven,  he  exclaimed,  "  O  Lord, 
hast  thou  then  forsaken  me  ? "  With  that,  taking 
heart,  once  more  he  waved  his  arm,  and  again  led  for- 
ward his  wild  array. 

At  eve  the  battle  ceased.  Of  the  Barons  who  had 
been  the  main  object  of  the  Tribune's  assault,  the  pride 
and  boast  was  broken.  Of  the  princely  line  of  the 
Colonna,  three  lay  dead.  Giordano  Orsini  was  mor- 


338  RIENZI 

tally  wounded ;  the  fierce  Rinaldo  had  not  shared  the 
conflict.  Of  the  Frangipani,  the  haughtiest  signers 
were  no  more ;  and  Luca,  the  dastard  head  of  the 
Savelli,  had  long  since  saved  himself  by  flight.  On 
the  other  hand,  the  slaughter  of  the  citizens  had  been 
prodigious; — the  ground  was  swamped  with  blood — 
and  over  heaps  of  slain  (steeds  and  riders)  the  twilight 
star  beheld  Rienzi  and  the  Romans  returning  victors 
from  the  pursuit.  Shouts  of  rejoicing  followed  the 
Tribune's  panting  steed  through  the  arch ;  and  just 
as  lie  entered  the  space  within,  crowds  of  those  whose 
infirmities,  sex,  or  years,  had  not  allowed  them  to 
share  the  conflict, — women,  and  children,  and  drivel- 
ling age,  mingled  with  the  bare  feet  and  dark  robes  of 
monks  and  friars,  apprised  of  the  victory,  were  pre- 
pared to  hail  his  triumph. 

Rienzi  reined  his  steed  by  the  corpse  of  the  boy 
Colonna,  which  lay  half  immersed  in  a  pool  of  water, 
and  close  by  it,  removed  from  the  arch  where  he  had 
fallen,  lay  that  of  Gianni  Colonna, — (that  Gianni 
Colonna  whose  spear  had  dismissed  his  brother's  gen- 
tle spirit.)  He  glanced  over  the  slain,  as  the  melan- 
choly Hesperus  played  upon  the  bloody  pool  and  the 
gory  corselet,  with  a  breast  heaved  with  many  emo- 
tions; and  turning,  he  saw  the  young  Angelo,  who, 
with  some  of  Nina's  guard,  had  repaired  to  the  spot, 
and  had  now  approached  the  Tribune. 

"  Child,"  said  Rienzi,  pointing  to  the  dead,  "  blessed 
art  thou  who  hast  no  blood  of  kindred  to  avenge! — to  him 
who  hath,  sooner  or  later  comes  the  hour ;  and  an 
awful  hour  it  is !  " 

The  words  sank  deep  into  Angelo's  heart,  and  in 
after  life  became  words  of  fate  to  the  speaker  and  the 
listener. 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES        339 

Ere  Rienzi  had  well  recovered  himself,  and  as  were 
heard  around  him  the  shrieks  of  the  widows  and 
mothers  of  the  slain — the  groans  of  the  dying — the 
exhortations  of  the  friars — mingled  with  sounds  of  joy 
and  triumph — a  cry  was  raised  by  the  women  and 
stragglers  on  the  battle-field  without,  of  "  The  foe ! — 
the  foe !  " 

"  To  your  swords,"  cried  the  Tribune ;  "  fall  back 
in  order : — yet  they  cannot  be  so  bold !  " 

The  tramp  of  horses,  the  blast  of  a  trumpet,  were 
heard ;  and  presently,  at  full  speed,  some  thirty  horse- 
men dashed  through  the  gate. 

"  Your  bows,"  exclaimed  the  Tribune,  advancing ; 
— "  yet  hold — the  leader  is  unarmed — it  is  our  own 
banner.  By  our  Lady,  it  is  our  ambassador  of  Naples, 
the  Lord  Adrian  di  Castello  !  " 

Panting — breathless — covered  with  dust — Adrian 
halted  at  the  pool  red  with  the  blood  of  his  kindred — 
and  their  pale  faces,  set  in  death,  glared  upon  him. 

"  Too  late — alas !  alas ! — dread  fate ! — unhappy 
Rome !  " 

"  They  fell  into  the  pit  they  themselves  had  digged," 
said  the  Tribune,  in  a  firm  but  hollow  voice. — "  Noble 
Adrian,  would  thy  counsels  had  prevented  this !  " 

"  Away,  proud  man — away !  "  said  Adrian,  impa- 
tiently waving  his  hand, — "  thou  shouldst  protect  the 

lives  of  Romans,  and oh,  Gianni! — Pietro! — could 

not  birth,  renown,  and  thy  green  years,  poor  boy — 
could  not  these  save  ye  ?  " 

"  Pardon  him,  my  friends,"  said  the  Tribune  to  the 
crowd, — "  his  grief  is  natural,,  and  he  knows  not  all 
their  guilt. — Back,  I  pray  ye — leave  him  to  our  minis- 
tering." 

It  might  have  fared  ill  for  Adrian,  but  for  the  Trib- 


340  RIENZI 

tine's  brief  speech.  And  as  the  young  Lord,  dis- 
mounting, now  bent  over  his  kinsmen — the  Tribune 
also  surrendering  his  charger  to  his  'squires,  ap- 
proached, and,  despite  Adrian's  reluctance  and  aver- 
sion, drew  him  aside, — 

"  Young  friend,"  said  he,  mournfully,  "  my  heart 
bleeds  for  you ;  yet  bethink  thee,  the  wrath  of  the 
crowd  is  fresh  upon  them  :  be  prudent." 

"Prudent!" 

"  Hush — by  my  honour,  these  men  were  not  wor- 
thy of  your  name.  Twice  perjured — once  assassins — 
twice  rebels — listen  to  me  !  " 

"  Tribune,  I  ask  no  other  construing  of  what  I  see 
— they  might  have  died  justly,  or  been  butchered 
foully.  But  there  is  no  peace  between  the  executioner 
of  my  race  and  me." 

"  Will  you,  too,  be  forsworn  ?  Thine  oath ! — Come, 
come,  I  hear  not  these  words.  Be  composed — retire 
— and  if,  three  days  hence,  you  impute  any  other 
blame  to  me  than  that  of  unwise  lenity,  I  absolve  you 
from  your  oath,  and  you  are  free  to  be  my  foe.  The 
crowd  gape  and  gaze  upon  us — a  minute  more,  and 
I  may  not  avail  to  save  you." 

The  feelings  of  the  young  patrician  were  such  as 
utterly  baffle  description.  He  had  never  been  much 
amongst  his  house,  nor  ever  received  more  than  com- 
mon courtesy  at  their  hands.  But  lineage  is  lineage 
still!  And  there,  in  the  fatal  hazard  of  war,  lay  the 
tree  and  sapling,  the  prime  and  hope  of  his  race.  He 
felt  there  was  no  answer  to  the  Tribune,  the  very  place 
of  their  death  proved  they  had  fallen  in  an  assault  upon 
their  countrymen.  He  sympathised  not  with  their 
cause,  but  their  fate.  And  rage,  revenge  alike  forbid- 
den— his  heart  was  the  more  softened  to  the  shock  and 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES        341 

paralysis  of  grief.  He  did  not  therefore  speak,  but 
continued  to  gaze  upon  the  dead,  while  large  and  un- 
heeded tears  flowed  down  his  cheeks,  and  his  attitude 
of  dejection  and  sorrow  was  so  moving,  that  the 
crowd,  at  first  indignant,  now  felt  for  his  affliction. 
At  length  his  mind  seemed  made  up.  He  turned  to 
Rienzi,  and  said,  falteringly,  "  Tribune,  I  blame  you 
not,  nor  accuse.  If  you  have  been  rash  in  this,  God 
will  have  blood  for  blood.  I  wage  no  war  with  you — 
you  say  right,  my  oath  prevents  me ;  and  if  you  govern 
well,  I  can  still  remember  that  I  am  Roman.  But — 
but — look  to  that  bleeding  clay — we  meet  no  more  ! — 
your  sister — God  be  with  her! — between  her  and  me 
flows  a  dark  gulf !  "  The  young  noble  paused  some 
moments,  choked  by  his  emotions,  and  then  continued, 
"  These  papers  discharge  me  of  my  mission.  Stand- 
ard-bearers, lay  down  the  banner  of  the  Republic. 
Tribune,  speak  not — I  would  be  calm — calm.  And 
so  farewell  to  Rome."  With  a  hurried  glance  towards 
the  dead,  he  sprung  upon  his  steed,  and,  followed  by 
his  train,  vanished  through  the  arch. 

The  Tribune  had  not  attempted  to  detain  him — had 
not  interrupted  him.  He  felt  that  the  young  noble 
had  thought — acted  as  became  him  best.  He  followed 
him  with  his  eyes. 

"  And  thus,"  said  he  gloomily,  "  Fate  plucks  from 
me  my  noblest  friend  and  my  justest  counsellor — a 
better  man  Rome  never  lost !  " 

Such  is  the  eternal  doom  of  disordered  states.  The 
mediator  between  rank  and  rank, — the  kindly  noble — 
the  dispassionate  patriot — the  first  to  act — the  most 
hailed  in  action — darkly  vanishes  from  the  scene. 
Fiercer  and  more  unscrupulous  spirits  alone  stalk  the 
field ;  and  no  neutral  and  harmonising  link  remains  be- 


342  RIENZI 

tween  hate  and  hate, — until  exhaustion,  sick  with  hor- 
rors, succeeds  to  frenzy,  and  despotism  is  welcomed 
as  repose ! 

CHAPTER    IV 

THE    HOLLOWNESS    OF   THE    BASE 

The  rapid  and  busy  march  of  state  events  has  led  us 
long  away  from  the  sister  of  the  Tribune  and  the  be- 
trothed of  Adrian.  And  the  sweet  thoughts  and  gen- 
tle day-dreams  of  that  fair  and  enamoured  girl,  how- 
ever full  to  her  of  an  interest  beyond  all  the  storms 
and  perils  of  ambition,  are  not  so  readily  adapted  to 
narration  : — their  soft  monotony  a  few  words  can  paint. 
They  knew  but  one  image,  they  tended  to  but  one 
prospect.  Shrinking  from  the  glare  of  her  brother's 
court,  and  eclipsed,  when  she  forced  herself  to  appear, 
by  the  more  matured  and  dazzling  beauty  and  all- 
commanding  presence,  of  Nina, — to  her  the  pomp  and 
crowd  seemed  an  unreal  pageant,  from  which  she  re- 
tired to  the  truth  of  life, — the  hopes  and  musings  of 
her  own  heart.  Poor  girl !  with  all  the  soft  and  tender 
nature  of  her  dead  brother,  and  none  of  the  stern 
genius  and  the  prodigal  ambition, — the  eye-fatiguing 
ostentation  and  fervour  of  the  living — she  was  but  ill- 
fitted  for  the  unquiet  but  splendid  region  to  which  she 
was  thus  suddenly  transferred. 

With  all  her  affection  for  Rienzi,  she  could  not  con- 
quer a  certain  fear  which,  conjoined  with  the  differ- 
ence of  sex  and  age,  forbade  her  to  be  communica- 
tive with  him  upon  the  subject  most  upon  her  heart. 

As  the  absence  of  Adrian  at  the  Neapolitan  Court 
passed  the  anticipated  date  (for  at  no  Court  then,  with 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES        343 

a  throne  fiercely  disputed,  did  the  Tribune  require  a 
nobler  or  more  intelligent  representative, — and  in- 
trigues and  counter-intrigues  delayed  his  departure 
from  week  to  week),  she  grew  uneasy  and  alarmed. 
Like  many,  themselves  unseen,  inactive,  the  specta- 
tors of  the  scene,  she  saw  involuntarily  further  into  the 
time  than  the  deeper  intellect  either  of  the  Tribune  or 
Nina ;  and  the  dangerous  discontent  of  the  nobles  was 
visible  and  audible  to  her  in  looks  and  whispers,  which 
reached  not  acuter  or  more  suspected  ears  and  eyes. 
Anxiously,  restlessly,  did  she  long  for  the  return  of 
Adrian,  not  from  selfish  motives  alone,  but  from  well- 
founded  apprehensions  for  her  brother.  With  Adrian 
di  Castello,  alike  a  noble  and  a  patriot,  each  party 
had  found  a  mediator,  and  his  presence  grew  daily 
more  needed,  till  at  length  the  conspiracy  of  the 
Barons  had  broken  out.  From  that  hour  she  scarcely 
dared  to  hope ;  her  calm  sense,  unblinded  by  the  high- 
wrought  genius  which,  as  too  often  happens,  made  the 
Tribune  see  harsh  realities  through  a  false  and  brilliant 
light,  perceived  that  the  Rubicon  was  passed ;  and 
through  all  the  events  that  followed  she  could  behold 
but  two  images — danger  to  her  brother,  separation 
from  her  betrothed. 

With  Nina  alone  could  her  full  heart  confer;  for 
Nina,  with  all  the  differences  of  character,  was  a 
woman  who  loved.  And  this  united  them.  In  the 
earlier  power  of  Rienzi,  many  of  their  happiest  hours 
had  been  passed  together,  remote  from  the  gaudy 
crowd,  alone  and  unrestrained,  in  the  summer  nights, 
on  the  moonlit  balconies,  in  that  interchange  of 
thought,  sympathy,  and  consolation,  which  to  two  im- 
passioned and  guileless  women  makes  the  most  inter- 
esting occupation  and  the  most  effectual  solace.  But 


344  RIENZI 

of  late,  this  intercourse  had  been  much  marred.  From 
the  morning  in  which  the  Barons  had  received  their 
pardon,  to  that  on  which  they  had  marched  on  Rome, 
had  been  one  succession  of  fierce  excitements.  Every 
face  Irene  saw  was  clouded  and  overcast — all  gaiety 
was  suspended — bustling  and  anxious  councillors,  or 
armed  soldiers,  had  for  days  been  the  only  visitors  of 
the  palace.  Rienzi  had  been  seen  but  for  short 
moments :  his  brow  wrapt  in  care.  Nina  had  been 
more  fond,  more  caressing  than  ever,  but  in  those 
caresses  there  seemed  a  mournful  and  ominous  com- 
passion. The  attempts  at  comfort  and  hope  were  suc- 
ceeded by  a  sickly  smile  and  broken  words ;  and  Irene 
was  prepared,  by  the  presentiments  of  her  own  heart, 
for  the  stroke  that  fell — victory  was  to  her  brother — 
his  foe  was  crushed — Rome  was  free — but  the  lofty 
house  of  the  Colonnas  had  lost  its  stateliest  props,  and 
Adrian  was  gone  for  ever! — She  did  not  blame  him; 
she  could  not  blame  her  brother;  each  had  acted  as 
became  his  several  station.  She  was  the  poor  sacrifice 
of  events  and  fate — the  Iphigenia  to  the  Winds  which 
were  to  bear  the  bark  of  Rome  to  the  haven,  or,  it 
might  be,  to  whelm  it  in  the  abyss.  She  was  stunned 
by  the  blow ;  she  did  not  even  weep  or  complain ;  she 
bowed  to  the  storm  that  swept  over  her,  and  it  passed. 
For  two  days  she  neither  took  food  nor  rest ;  she  shut 
herself  up ;  she  asked  only  the  boon  of  solitude :  but 
on  the  third  morning  she  recovered  as  by  a  miracle, 
for  on  the  third  morning  the  following  letter  was  left 
at  the  palace : — 

"  IRENE, — Ere  this  you  have  learned  my  deep  cause 
of  grief;  you  feel  that  to  a  Colonna,  Rome  can  no 
longer  be  a  home,  nor  Rome's  Tribune  be  a  brother. 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES        345 

While  I  write  these  words  honour  but  feebly  supports 
me :  all  the  hopes  I  had  formed,  all  the  prospects  I  had 
pictured,  all  the  love  I  bore  and  bear  thee,  rush  upon 
my  heart,  and  I  can  only  feel  that  I  am  wretched. 
Irene,  Irene,  your  sweet  face  rises  before  me,  and  in 
those  beloved  eyes  I  read  that  I  am  forgiven, — I  am 
understood;  and  dearly  as  I  know  thou  lovest  me, 
thou  wouldst  rather  I  were  lost  to  thee,  rather  I  were 
in  the  grave  with  my  kinsmen,  than  know  I  lived  the 
reproach  of  my  order,  the  recreant  of  my  name.  Ah ! 
why  was  I  a  Colonna?  why  did  Fortune  make  me 
noble,  and  nature  and  circumstance  attach  me  to  the 
people?  I  am  barred  alike  from  love  and  from  re- 
venge ;  all  my  revenge  falls  upon  thee  and  me. 
Adored !  we  are  perhaps  separated  for  ever ;  but,  by  all 
the  happiness  I  have  known  by  thy  side — by  all  the 
rapture  of  which  I  dreamed — by  that  delicious  hour 
which  first  gave  thee  to  my  gaze,  when  I  watched  the 
soft  soul  returning  to  thine  eyes  and  lip — by  thy  first 
blushing  confession  of  love — by  our  first  kiss — by  our 
last  farewell — I  swear  to  be  faithful  to  thee  to  the  last. 
None  other  shall  ever  chase  thine  image  from  my 
heart.  And  now,  when  Hope  seems  over,  Faith  be- 
comes doubly  sacred;  and  thou,  my  beautiful,  wilt 
thou  not  remember  me?  wilt  thou  not  feel  as  if  we 
were  the  betrothed  of  Heaven  ?  In  the  legends  of  the 
North  we  are  told  of  the  knight  who,  returning  from 
the  Holy  Land,  found  his  mistress  (believing  his 
death)  the  bride  of  Heaven,  and  he  built  a  hermitage 
by  the  convent  where  she  dwelt;  and.,  though  they 
never  saw  each  other  more,  their  souls  were  faithful 
unto  death.  Even  so,  Irene,  be  we  to  each  other — 
dead  to  all  else — betrothed  in  memory — to  be  wedded 
above!  And  yet,  yet  ere  I  close,  one  hope  dawns 


346  RIENZI 

upon  me.  Thy  brother's  career,  bright  and  lofty,  may 
be  but  as  a  falling  star;  should  darkness  swallow  it, 
should  his  power  cease,  should  his  throne  be  broken, 
and  Rome  know  no  more  her  Tribune;  shouldst  thou 
no  longer  have  a  brother  in  the  judge  and  destroyer 
of  my  house ;  shouldst  thou  be  stricken  from  pomp 
and  state ;  shouldst  thou  be  friendless,  kindredless, 
alone — then,  without  a  stain  on  mine  honour,  without 
the  shame  and  odium  of  receiving  power  and  happi- 
ness from  hands  yet  red  with  the  blood  of  my  race,  I 
may  claim  thee  as  my  own.  Honour  ceases  to  com- 
mand when  thou  ceasest  to  be  great.  I  dare  not  too 
fondly  indulge  this  dream,  perchance  it  is  a  sin  in  both. 
But  it  must  be  whispered,  that  thou  mayest  know  all 
thy  Adrian,  all  his  weakness  and  his  strength.  t  My 
own  loved,  my  ever  loved,  loved  more  fondly  now 
when  loved  despairingly,  farewell !  May  angels  heal 
thy  sorrow,  and  guard  me  from  sin,  that  hereafter  at 
least  we  may  meet  again !  " 

"  He  loves  me — he  loves  me  still !  "  said  the  maiden, 
weeping  at  last ;  "  and  I  am  blest  once  more !  " 

With  that  letter  pressed  to  her  heart  she  recovered 
outwardly  from  the  depth  of  her  affliction ;  she  met 
her  brother  with  a  smile,  and  Nina  with  embraces  ;  and 
if  still  she  pined  and  sorrowed,  it  was  in  that  "  con- 
cealment "  which  is  the  "  worm  i'  the  bud." 

Meanwhile,  after  the  first  flush  of  victory,  lamenta- 
tion succeeded  to  joy  in  Rome ;  so  great  had  been  the 
slaughter  that  the  private  grief  was  large  enough  to 
swallow  up  all  public  triumph ;  and  many  of  the 
mourners  blamed  even  their  defender  for  the  swords 
of  the  assailant,  "  Roma  fu  terribilmcnte  vcdovata"  * 
*  "  Rome  was  terribly  widowed." 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES        347 

The  numerous  funerals  deeply  affected  the  Tribune; 
and,  in  proportion  to  his  sympathy  with  his  people, 
grew  his  stern  indignation  against  the  Barons.  Like 
all  men  whose  religion  is  intense,  passionate,  and  zeal- 
ous, the  Tribune  had  little  toleration  for  those  crimes 
which  went  to  the  root  of  religion.  Perjury  was  to 
him  the  most  base  and  inexpiable  of  offences,  and  the 
slain  Barons  had  been  twice  perjured :  in  the  bitterness 
of  his  wrath  he  forbade  their  families  for  some  days 
to  lament  over  their  remains ;  and  it  was  only  in  pri- 
vate and  in  secret  that  he  permitted  them  to  be  in- 
terred in  their  ancestral  vaults  :  an  excess  of  vengeance 
which  sullied  his  laurels,  but  which  was  scarcely  in- 
consistent with  the  stern  patriotism  of  his  character. 
Impatient  to  finish  what  he  had  begun,  anxious  to 
march  at  once  to  Marino,  where  the  insurgents  col- 
lected their  shattered  force,  he  summoned  his  Council, 
and  represented  the  certainty  of  victory,  and  its  result 
in  the  complete  restoration  of  peace.  But  pay  was 
due  to  the  soldiery ;  they  already  murmured ;  the 
treasury  was  emptied,  it  was  necessary  to  fill  it  by 
raising  a  new  tax. 

Among  the  councillors  were  some  whose  families 
had  suffered  grievously  in  the  battle — they  lent  a  luke- 
warm attention  to  propositions  of  continued  strife. 
Others,  among  whom  was  Pandulfo,  timid  but  well- 
meaning,  aware  that  grief  and  terror  even  of  their  own 
triumph  had  produced  reaction  amongst  the  people, 
declared  that  they  would  not  venture  to  propose  a  new 
tax.  A  third  party,  headed  by  Baroncelli — a  dema- 
gogue whose  ambition  was  without  principle — but 
who,  by  pandering  to  the  worst  passions  of  the  popu- 
lace, by  a  sturdy  coarseness  of  nature  with  which  they 
sympathised — and  by  that  affectation  of  advancing 


348  RIENZI 

what  we  now  term  the  "  movement,"  which  often  gives 
to  the  fiercest  fool  an  advantage  over  the  most  prudent 
statesman,  had  quietly  acquired  a  great  influence  with 
the  lower  ranks — offered  a  more  bold  opposition. 
They  dared  even  to  blame  the  proud  Tribune  for  the 
gorgeous  extravagance  they  had  themselves  been  the 
first  to  recommend — and  half  insinuated  sinister  and 
treacherous  motives  in  his  acquittal  of  the  Barons  from 
the  accusation  of  Rodolf.  In  the  very  Parliament 
which  the  Tribune  had  revived  and  remodelled  for  the 
support  of  freedom — freedom  was  abandoned.  His 
fiery  eloquence  met  with  a  gloomy  silence,  and  finally, 
the  votes  were  against  his  propositions  for  the  new 
tax  and  the  march  to  Marino.  Rienzi  broke  up  the 
Council  in  haste  and  disorder.  As  he  left  the  hall,  a 
letter  was  put  into  his  hands ;  he  read  it,  and  remained 
for  some  moments  as  one  thunderstruck.  He  then 
summoned  the  Captain  of  his  Guards,  and  ordered  a 
band  of  fifty  horsemen  to  be  prepared  for  his  com- 
mands ;  he  repaired  to  Nina's  apartment,  he  found  her 
alone,  and  stood  for  some  moments  gazing  upon  her 
so  intently  that  she  was  awed  and  chilled  from  all  at- 
tempt at  speech.  At  length  he  said,  abruptly — 

"  We  must  part." 

"Part!" 

"  Yes,  Nina — your  guard  is  preparing ;  you  have 
relations,  I  have  friends,  at  Florence.  Florence  must 
be  your  home." 

«  Cola, " 

"  Look  not  on  me  thus. — In  power,  in  state,  in 
safety — you  were  my  ornament  and  counsellor.  Now 
you  but  embarrass  me.  And " 

"  Oh,  Cola,  speak  not  thus !  What  hath  chanced  ? 
Be  not  so  cold — frown  not — turn  not  away!  Am  I 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES        349 

not  something  more  to  thee,  than  the  partner  of  joyous 
hours — the  minion  of  love  ?  Am  I  not  thy  wife,  Cola 
— not  thy  leman  ?  " 

"  Too  dear — too  dear  to  me,"  muttered  the  Trib- 
une ;  "  with  thee  by  my  side  I  shall  be  but  half  a  Ro- 
man. Nina,  the  base  slaves  whom  I  myself  made 
free  desert  me. — Now,  in  the  very  hour  in  which  I 
might  sweep  away  for  ever  all  obstacles  to  the  regen- 
eration of  Rome — now  when  one  conquest  points  the 
path  to  complete  success — now  when  the  land  is  vis- 
ible, my  fortune  suddenly  leaves  me  in  the  midst  of  the 
seas !  There  is  greater  danger  now  than  in  the  rage 
of  the  Barons — the  Barons  are  fled;  it  is  the  People 
who  are  becoming  traitors  to  Rome  and  to  me." 

"  And  wouldst  thou  have  me  traitor  also !    No,  Cola ; 

in  death  itself  Nina  shall  be  beside  thee.     Life  and 

honour  are  reflected  but  from  thee,  and  the  stroke  that 

slays  the  substance,  shall  destroy  the  humble  shadow. 

,  I  will  not  part  from  thee." 

"  Nina,"  said  the  Tribune,  contending  with  strong 
and  convulsive  emotion, — "  it  may  be  literally  of  death 
'that  you  speak. — Go!  leave  one  who  can  no  longer 
protect  you  or  Rome !  " 

"  Never — never." 

"  You  are  resolved  ?  " 

"  I  am." 

"  Be  it  so,"  said  the  Tribune,  with  deep  sadness  in 
his  tone.  "  Arm  thyself  for  the  worst." 

"  There  is  no  worst  with  thee,  Cola !  " 

"  Come  to  my  arms,  brave  woman ;  thy  words  re- 
buke my  weakness.  But  my  sister! — if  7  fall,  you, 
Nina,  will  not  survive — your  beauty  a  prey  to  the  most 
lustful  heart  and  the  strongest  hand.  We  will  have 
the  same  tomb  on  the  wrecks  of  Roman  liberty.  But 


350  RIENZI 

Irene  is  of  weaker  mould ;  poor  child,  I  have  robbed 
her  of  a  lover,  and  now " 

"  You  are  right ;  let  Irene  go.  And  in  truth  we  may 
well  disguise  from  her  the  real  cause  of  her  departure. 
Change  of  scene  were  best  for  her  grief;  and  under  all- 
circumstances  would  seem  decorum  to  the  curious.  I 
will  see  and  prepare  her." 

"  Do  so,  sweetheart.  I  would  gladly  be  a  moment 
alone  with  thought.  But  remember,  she  must  part 
to-day — our  sands  run  low." 

As  the  door  closed  on  Nina,  the  Tribune  took  out 
the  letter  and  again  read  it  deliberately.  "  So  the 
Pope's  Legate  left  Sienna : — prayed  that  Republic  to 
withdraw  its  auxiliary  troops  from  Rome — proclaimed 
me  a  rebel  and  a  heretic  ; — thence  repaired  to  Marino ; 
— now  in  council  with  the  Barons.  Why,  have  my 
dreams  belied  me,  then — false  as  the  waking  things 
that  flatter  and  betray  by  day  ?  In  such  peril  will  the 
people  forsake  me  and  themselves?  Army  of  saints 
and  martyrs,  shades  of  heroes  and  patriots,  have  ye 
abandoned  for  ever  your  ancient  home?  No,  no,  I 
was  not  raised  to  perish  thus ;  I  will  defeat  them  yet — 
and  leave  my  name  a  legacy  to  Rome ;  a  warning  to 
the  oppressor — an  example  to  the  free !  " 


CHAPTER   V 

THE   ROTTENNESS    OF   THE    EDIFICE 

The  kindly  skill  of  Nina  induced  Irene  to  believe 
that  it  was  but  the  tender  consideration  of  her  brother 
to  change  a  scene  embittered  by  her  own  thoughts, 
and  in  which  the  notoriety  of  her  engagement  with 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES        351 

Adrian  exposed  her  to  all  that  could  mortify  and  em- 
barrass, that  led  to  the  proposition  of  her  visit  to  Flor- 
ence. Its  suddenness  was  ascribed  to  the  occasion  of 
an  unexpected  mission  to  Florence  (for  a  loan  of  arms 
and  money),  which  thus  gave  her  a  safe  and  honoured 
escort. — Passively  she  submitted  to  what  she  herself 
deemed  a  relief ;  and  it  was  agreed  that  she  should  for 
a  while  be  the  guest  of  a  relation  of  Nina's,  who  was 
the  abbess  of  one  of  the  wealthiest  of  the  Florentine 
convents :  the  idea  of  monastic  seclusion  was  welcome 
to  the  bruised  heart  and  wearied  spirit. 

But  though  not  apprised  of  the  immediate  peril  of 
Rienzi,  it  was  with  deep  sadness  and  gloomy  fore- 
bodings that  she  returned  his  embrace  and  parting 
blessing;  and  when  at  length  alone  in  her  litter,  and 
beyond  the  gates  of  Rome,  she  repented  a  departure 
to  which  the  chance  of  danger  gave  the  appearance 
of  desertion. 

Meanwhile,  as  the  declining  day  closed  around  the 
litter  and  its  troop,  more  turbulent  actors  in  the  drama 
demand  our  audience.  The  traders  and  artisans  of 
Rome  at  that  time,  and  especially  during  the  popular 
government  of  Rienzi,  held  weekly  meetings  in  each 
of  the  thirteen  quarters  of  the  city.  And  in  the  most 
democratic  of  these,  Cecco  del  Vecchio  was  an  oracle 
and  leader.  It  was  at  that  assembly,  over  which  the 
smith  presided,  that  the  murmurs  that  preceded  the 
earthquake  were  heard. 

"  So,"  cried  one  of  the  company — Luigi,  the  goodly 
butcher, — "  they  say  he  wanted  to  put  a  new  tax  on 
us ;  and  that  is  the  reason  he  broke  up  the  Council  to- 
day, because,  good  men,  they  were  honest,  and  had 
bowels  for  the  people :  it  is  a  shame  and  a  sin  that  the 
treasury  should  be  empty." 


352  RIENZI 

"  I  told  him,"  said  the  smith,  "  to  beware  how  he 
taxed  the  people.  Poor  men  won't  be  taxed.  But  as 
he  does  not  follow  my  advice,  he  must  take  the  conse- 
quence— the  horse  runs  from  one  hand,  the  halter  re- 
mains in  the  other." 

"  Take  your  advice,  Cecco !  I  warrant  me  his  stom- 
ach is  too  high  for  that  now.  Why  he  is  grown  as 
proud  as  a  pope." 

"  For  all  that,  he  is  a  great  man,"  said  one  of  the 
party.  "  He  gave  us  laws — he  rid  the  Campagna  of 
robbers — filled  the  streets  with  merchants,  and  the 
shops  with  wares — defeated  the  boldest  lords  and 
fiercest  soldiery  of  Italy " 

"  And  now  wants  to  tax  the  people ! — that's  all  the 
thanks  we  get  for  helping  him,"  said  the  grumbling 
Cecco.  "  What  would  he  have  been  without  us  ? — we 
that  make,  can  unmake." 

"  But,"  continued  the  advocate,  seeing  that  he  had 
his  supporters — "  but  then  he  taxes  us  for  our  own 
liberties." 

"  Who  strikes  at  them  now  ?  "  asked  the  butcher. 

"  Why  the  Barons  are  daily  mustering  new  strength 
at  Marino." 

"Marino  is  not  Rome,"  said  Luigi,  the  butcher. 
"  Let's  wait  till  they  come  to  our  gates  again — we 
know  how  to  receive  them.  Though,  for  the  matter 
of  that,  I  think  we  have  had  enough  fighting — my  two 
poor  brothers  had  each  a  stab  too  much  for  them. 
Why  won't  the  Tribune,  if  he  be  a  great  man,  let  us 
have  peace?  All  we  want  now  is  quiet?  " 

"  Ah !  "  said  a  seller  of  horse-harness.  "  Let  him 
make  it  up  with  the  Barons.  They  were  good  cus- 
tomers after  all." 

"  For  my  part,"  said  a  merry-looking  fellow,  who 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES        353 

had  been  a  grave-digger  in  bad  times,  and  had  now 
opened  a  stall  of  wares  for  the  living,  "  I  could  for- 
give him  all,  but  bathing  in  the  holy  vase  of  por- 
phyry.", 

"  Ah,  that  was  a  bad  job,"  said  several,  shaking 
their  heads. 

"  And  the  knighthood  was  but  a  silly  show,  an  it 
were  not  for  the  wine  from  the  horse's  nostrils — that 
had  some  sense  in  it." 

"  My  masters,"  said  Cecco,  "  the  folly  was  in  not 
beheading  the  Barons  when  he  had  them  all  in  the  net ; 
and  so  Messere  Baroncelli  says.  (Ah,  Baroncelli  is 
an  honest  man,  and  follows  no  half  measures !)  It 
was  a  sort  of  treason  to  the  people  not  to  do  so.  Why, 
but  for  that,  we  should  never  have  lost  so  many  tall 
fellows  by  the  gate  of  San  Lorenzo." 

"  True,  true,  it  was  a  shame ;  some  say  the  Barons 
bought  him." 

"  And  then,"  said  another,  "  those  poor  Lords  Co- 
lonna — boy  and  man — they  were  the  best  of  the  family, 
save  the  Castello.  I  vow  I  pitied  them." 

"  But  to  the  point,"  said  one  of  the  crowd,  the  richest 
of  the  set ;  "  the  tax  is  the  thing.  The  ingratitude  to 
tax  us. — Let  him  dare  to  do  it !  " 

"  Oh,  he  will  not  dare,  for  I  hear  that  the  Pope's 
bristles  are  up  at  last;  so  he  will  only  have  us  to  de- 
pend upon ! " 

The  door  was  thrown  open — a  man  rushed  in  open- 
mouthed — 

"  Masters,  masters,  the  Pope's  legate  has  arrived  at 
Rome,  and  sent  for  the  Tribune,  who  has  just  left  his 
presence." 

Ere  his  auditors  had  recovered  their  surprise,  the 
sound  of  trumpets  made  them  rush  forth;  they  saw 
23 


354  RIENZI 

Rienzi  sweep  by  with  his  usual  cavalcade,  and  in  his 
proud  array.  The  twilight  was  advancing,  and  torch- 
bearers  preceded  his  way.  Upon  his  countenance  was 
deep  calm,  but  it  was  not  the  calm  of  contentment. 
He  passed  on,  and  the  street  was  again  desolate. 
Meanwhile  Rienzi  reached  the  Capitol  in  silence,  and 
mounted  to  the  apartments  of  the  palace,  where  Nina, 
pale  and  breathless,  awaited  his  return. 

"  Well,  well,  thou  smilest !  No — it  is  that  dread 
smile,  worse  than  frowns.  Speak,  beloved,  speak ! 
What  said  the  Cardinal  ?  " 

"  Little  thou  wilt  love  to  hear.  He  spoke  at  first 
high  and  solemnly,  about  the  crime  of  declaring  the 
Romans  free ;  next  about  the  treason  of  asserting  that 
the  election  of  the  King  of  Rome  was  in  the  hands  of 
the  Romans." 

"  Well— thy  answer." 

"  That  which  became  Rome's  Tribune  :  I  re-asserted 
each  right  and  proved  it.  The  Cardinal  passed  to 
other  charges." 

"What?" 

"  The  blood  of  the  barons  by  San  Lorenzo — blood 
only  shed  in  our  own  defence  against  perjured  assail- 
ants ;  this  is  in  reality  the  main  crime.  The  Colonna 
have  the  Pope's  ear.  Furthermore,  the  sacrilege — 
yes,  the  sacrilege  (come  laugh,  Nina,  laugh !)  of  bath- 
ing in  a  vase  of  porphyry  used  by  Constantine  while 
yet  a  heathen." 

"  Can  it  be !     What  saidst  thou  ?  " 

"  I  laughed.  '  Cardinal,'  quoth  I,  '  what  was  not 
too  good  for  a  heathen  is  not  too  good  for  a  Christian 
Catholic ! '  And  verily  the  sour  Frenchman  looked  as 
if  I  had  smote  him  on  the  hip.  When  he  had  done, 
I  asked  him,  in  my  turn,  '  Is  it  alleged  against  me  that 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES        355 

I  have  wronged  one  man  in  my  judgment-court  ?  ' — 
Silence.  '  Is  it  said  that  I  have  broken  one  law  of  the 
state?' — Silence.  'Is  it  even  whispered  that  trade  does 
not  flourish — that  life  is  not  safe — that  abroad  or  at 
home  the  Roman  name  is  not  honoured,  to  that  point 
which  no  former  rule  can  parallel  ?  ' — Silence.  '  Then/ 
said  I,  '  Lord  Cardinal,  I  demand  thy  thanks,  not  thy 
censure.'  The  Frenchman  looked,  and  looked,  and 
trembled,  and  shrunk,  and  then  out  he  spoke.  '  I  have 
but  one  mission  to  fulfil,  on  the  part  of  the  Pontiff — 
resign  at  once  thy  Tribuneship,  or  the  Church  inflicts 
upon  thee  its  solemn  curse.'  " 

"  How — how  ? "  said  Nina,  turning  very  pale ; 
"  what  is  it  that  awaits  thee  ?  " 

"  Excommunication !  " 

This  awful  sentence,  by  which  the  spiritual  arm  had 
so  often  stricken  down  the  fiercest  foe,  came  lo  Nina's 
ears  as  a  knell.  She  covered  her  face  with  her  hands. 
Rienzi  paced  the  room  with  rapid  strides.  "  The 
curse !  "  he  muttered ;  "  the  Church's  curse — for  me — 
for  ME!" 

"  Oh,  Cola !  didst  thou  not  seek  to  pacify  this 
stern " 

"  Pacify !  Death  and  dishonour !  Pacify !  '  Cardi- 
nal,' I  said,  and  I  felt  his  soul  shrivel  at  my  gaze,  '  my 
power  I  received  from  the  people — to  the  people  alone 
I  render  it.  For  my  soul,  man's  words  cannot  scathe 
it.  Thou,  haughty  priest,  thou  thyself  art  the  ac- 
cursed, if,  puppet  and  tool  of  low  cabals  and  exiled 
tyrants,  thou  breathest  but  a  breath  in  the  name  of 
the  Lord  of  Justice,  for  the  cause  of  the  oppressor,  and 
against  the  rights  of  the  oppressed.'  With  that  I  left 
him,  and  now " 

"  Ay,  now — now  what  will  happen  ?     Excommuni- 


356  RIENZI 

cation !  In  the  metropolis  of  the  Church,  too — the 
superstition  of  the  people !  Oh,  Cola !  " 

"  If,"  muttered  Rienzi,  "  my  conscience  condemned 
me  of  one  crime — if  I  had  stained  my  hands  in  one 
just  man's  blood — if  I  had  broken  one  law  I  myself 
had  framed — if  I  had  taken  bribes,  or  wronged  the 
poor,  or  scorned  the  orphan,  or  shut  my  heart  to  the 
widow — then,  then — but  no !  Lord,  thou  wilt  not  de- 
sert me !  " 

"  But  man  may ! "  thought  Nina  mournfully,  as  she 
perceived  that  one  of  Rienzi's  dark  fits  of  fanatical  and 
mystical  reverie  was  growing  over  him — fits  which  he 
suffered  no  living  eye,  not  even  Nina's,  to  witness 
when  they  gathered  to  their  height.  And 'now,  in- 
deed, after  a  short  interval  of  muttered  soliloquy,  in 
which  his  face  worked  so  that  the  veins  on  his  temples 
swelled  like  cords,  he  abruptly  left  the  room,  and 
sought  the  private  oratory  connected  with  his  closet. 
Over  the  emotions  there  indulged  let  us  draw  the  veil. 
Who  shall  describe  those  awful  and  mysterious  mo- 
ments, when  man,  with  all  his  fiery  passions,  turbulent 
thoughts,  wild  hopes,  and  despondent  fears,  demands 
the  solitary  audience  of  his  Maker? 

It  was  long  after  this  conference  with  Nina,  and  the 
midnight  bell  had  long  tolled,  when  Rienzi  stood 
alone,  upon  one  of  the  balconies  of  the  palace,  to  cool, 
in  the  starry  air,  the  fever  that  yet  lingered  on  his 
exhausted  frame.  The  night  was  exceedingly  calm, 
the  air  clear,  but  chill,  for  it  was  now  December. 
He  gazed  intently  upon  those  solemn  orbs  to  which 
our  wild  credulity  has  referred  the  prophecies  of  our 
doom. 

"Vain  science !  "  thought  the  Tribune,  "  and  gloomy 
fantasy,  that  man's  fate  is  pre-ordained — irrevocable — 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES        357 

unchangeable,  from  the  moment  of  his  birth !  Yet, 
were  the  dream  not  baseless,  fain  would  I  know  which 
of  yon  stately  lights  is  my  natal  star, — which  images — 
which  reflects — my  career  in  life,  and  the  memory  I 
shall  leave  in  death."  As  this  thought  crossed  him,  and 
his  gaze  was  still  fixed  above,  he  saw,  as  if  made  sud- 
denly more  distinct  than  the  stars  around  it,  that  rapid 
and  fiery  comet  which  in  the  winter  of  1347  dismayed 
the  superstitions  of  those  who  recognised  in  the 
stranger  of  the  heavens  the  omen  of  disaster  and  of 
woe.  He  recoiled  as  it  met  his  eye,  and  muttered  to 
himself,  "  Is  such  indeed  my  type !  or,  if  the  legendary 
lore  speak  true,  and  these  strange  fires  portend  nations 
ruined,  and  rulers  overthrown,  does  it  foretell  my  fate  ? 
I  will  think  no  more."*  As  his  eyes  fell  they  rested 
upon  the  colossal  Lion  of  Basalt  in  the  place  below, 
the  starlight  investing  its  gray  and  towering  form  with 
a  more  ghostly  whiteness;  and  then  it  was,  that  he 
perceived  two  figures  in  black  robes  lingering  by  the 
pedestal  which  supported  the  statue,  and  apparently 
engaged  in  some  occupation  which  he  could  not  guess. 
A  fear  shot  through  his  veins,  for  he  had  never  been 
able  to  divest  himself  of  the  vague  idea  that  there  was 
some  solemn  and  appointed  connection  between  his 
fate  and  that  old  Lion  of  Basalt.  Somewhat  relieved, 
he  heard  his  sentry  challenge  the  intruders;  and  as 
they  came  forward  to  the  light,  he  perceived  that  they 
wore  the  garments  of  monks. 

"  Molest  us  not,  son,"  said  one  of  them  to  the  sentry. 
"  By  order  of  the  Legate  of  the  Holy  Father  we  affix 

*  Alas!  if  by  the  Romans  associated  with  the  fall  of  Rienzi, 
that  comet  was  by  the  rest  of  Europe  connected  with  the 
more  dire  calamity  of  the  Great  Plague  that  so  soon  after- 
wards ensued. 


358  RIENZI 

to  this  public  monument  o£  justice  and  of  wrath,  the 
bull  of  excommunication  against  a  heretic  and  rebel. 
WOF  TO  THE  ACCURSED  OF  THE  CHURCH  !  " 


CHAPTER   VI 

THE   FALL   OF  THE  TEMPLE 

It  was  as  a  thunderbolt  in  a  serene  day — the  reverse 
o?  the  Tribune  in  the  zenith  of  his  power,  in  the  abase- 
ment of  his  foe;  when,  with  but  a  handful  of  brave 
Romans,  determined  to  be  free,  he  might  have  crushed 
for  ever  the  antagonist  power  to  the  Roman  liberties — 
have  secured  the  rights  of  his  country,  and  filled  up 
the  measure  of  his  own  renown.  Such  a  reverse  was 
the  very  mockery  of  Fate,  who  bore  him  through  dis- 
aster, to  abandon  him  in  the  sunniest  noon  of  his  pros- 
perity. 

The  next  morning  not  a  soul  was  to  be  seen  in  the 
streets ;  the  shops  were  shut — the  churches  closed ;  the 
city  was  as  under  an  interdict.  The  awful  curse  of  the 
papal  excommunication  upon  the  chief  magistrate  of 
the  Pontifical  city,  seemed  to  freeze  up  all  the  arteries 
of  life.  The  Legate  himself,  affecting  fear  of  his  life, 
had  fled  to  Monte  Fiascone,  where  he  was  joined  by 
the  Barons  immediately  after  the  publication  of  the 
edict.  The  curse  worked  best  in  the  absence  of  the 
execrator. 

Towards  evening  a  few  persons  might  be  seen  trav- 
ersing the  broad  space  of  the  Capitol,  crossing  them- 
selves, as  the  bull,  placarded  on  the  Lion,  met  their 
eyes,  and  disappearing  within  the  doors  of  the  great 
palace.  By  and  by,  a  few  anxious  groups  collected 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES        359 

in  the  streets,  but  they  soon  dispersed.  It  was  a 
paralysis  of  all  intercourse  and  commune.  That  spir- 
itual and  unarmed  authority,  which,  like  the  invisible 
hand  of  God,  desolated  the  market-place,  and  humbled 
the  crowned  head,  no  physical  force  could  rally  against 
or  resist.  Yet  through  the  universal  awe,  one  convic- 
tion touched  the  multitude — it  was  for  them  that  their 
Tribune  was  thus  blasted  in  the  midst  of  his  glories ! 
The  words  of  the  Brand  recorded  against  him  on  wall 
and  column  detailed  his  offences : — rebellion  in  assert- 
ing the  liberties  of  Rome — heresy  in  purifying  ec- 
clesiastical abuses; — and  to  serve  for  a  miserable 
covert  to  the  rest,  it  was  sacrilege  for  bathing  in  the 
porphyry  vase  of  Constantine !  They  felt  the  convic- 
tion ;  they  sighed — they  shuddered — and,  in  his  vast 
palace,  save  a  few  attached  and  devoted  hearts,  the 
Tribune  was  alone ! 

The  staunchest  of  the  Tuscan  soldiery  were  gone 
with  Irene.  The  rest  of  his  force,  save  a  few  remain- 
ing guards,  was  the  paid  Roman  militia,  composed  of 
citizens ;  who,  long  discontented  by  the  delay  of  their 
stipends,  now  seized  on  the  excuse  of  the  excommu- 
nication to  remain  passive,  but  grumbling,  in  their 
homes. 

On  the  third  day,  a  new  incident  broke  upon  the 
death-like  lethargy  of  the  city ;  a  hundred  and  fifty 
mercenaries,  with  Pepin  of  Minorbino,  a  Neapolitan, 
half  noble,  half  bandit  (a  creature  of  Montreal's),  at 
their  head,  entered  the  city,  seized  upon  the  fortresses 
of  the  Colonna,  and  sent  a  herald  through  the  city, 
proclaiming,  in  the  name  of  the  Cardinal  Legate,  the 
reward  of  ten  thousand  florins  for  the  head  of  Cola  di 
Rienzi. 

Then,  swelled  on  high,  shrill  but  not  inspiring  as  of 


360  RIENZI 

old,  the  great  bell  of  the  Capitol — the  people,  listless, 
disheartened,  awed  by  the  spiritual  fear  of  the  papal 
authority  (yet  greater,  in  such  events,  since  the  re- 
moval of  the  see),  came  unarmed  to  the  Capitol ;  and 
there,  by  the  Place  of  the  Lion,  stood  the  Tribune. 
His  'squires,  below  the  step,  held  his  war-horse,  his 
helm,  and  the  same  battle-axe  which  had  blazed  in 
the  van  of  victorious  war. 

Beside  him  were  a  few  of  his  guard,  his  attendants, 
and  two  or  three  of  the  principal  citizens. 

He  stood  bareheaded  and  erect,  gazing  upon  the 
abashed  and  unarmed  crowd  with  a  look  of  bitter 
scorn,  mingled  with  deep  compassion ;  and,  as  the  bell 
ceased  its  toll,  and  the  throng  remained  hushed  and 
listening,  he  thus  spoke  : — 

"  Ye  come,  then,  once  again !  Come  ye  as  slaves  or 
freemen  ?  A  handful  of  armed  men  are  in  your  walls : 
will  ye  who  chased  from  your  gates  the  haughtiest 
knights — the  most  practised  battle-men  of  Rome,  suc- 
cumb now  to  one  hundred  and  fifty  hirelings  and 
strangers  ?  Will  ye  arm  for  your  Tribune  ?  You  are 
silent ! — be  it  so.  Will  you  arm  for  your  own  liberties 
— your  own  Rome  ?  Silent  still !  By  the  saints  that 
reign  on  the  thrones  of  the  heathen  gods !  are  ye  thus 
fallen  from  your  birthright?  Have  you  no  arms  for 
your  own  defence  ?  Romans,  hear  me !  Have  I 
wronged  you? — if  so,  by  your  hands  let  me  die:  and 
then,  with  knives  yet  reeking  with  my  blood,  go  for- 
ward against  the  robber  who  is  but  the  herald  of  your 
slavery;  and  I  die  honoured,  grateful,  and  avenged. 
You  weep !  Great  God !  you  weep !  Ay,  and  I  could 
weep,  too — that  I  should  live  to  speak  of  liberty  in 
vain  to  Romans — Weep !  is  this  an  hour  for  tears  ? 
Weep  now,  and  your  tears  shall  ripen  harvests  of 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES        361 

crime,  and  licence,  and  despotism,  to  come !  Romans, 
arm !  follow  me  at  once  to  the  Place  of  the  Colonna : 
expel  this  ruffian — expel  your  enemy  (no  matter  what 
afterwards  you  do  to  me) :  "  he  paused ;  no  ardour 
was  kindled  by  his  words — "  or,"  he  continued,  "  I 
abandon  you  to  your  fate." 

There  was  a  long,  low,  general  murmur ;  at  length 
it  became  shaped  into  speech,  and  many  voices  cried 
simultaneously :  "  The  Pope's  bull — thou  art  a  man 
accursed !  " 

"  What !  "  cried  the  Tribune  ;  "  and  is  it  ye  who  for- 
sake me,  ye  for  whose  cause  alone  man  dares  to  hurl 
against  me  the  thunders  of  his  God?  Is  it  not  for  you 
that  I  am  declared  heretic  and  rebel !  What  are  my 
imputed  crimes?  That  I  have  made  Rome  and  as- 
serted Italy  to  be  free ;  that  I  have  subdued  the  proud 
Magnates,  who  were  the  scourge  both  of  Pope  and 
People.  And  you — you  upbraid  me  with  what  I  have 
dared  and  done  for  you  !  Men,  with  you  I  would  have 
fought,  for  you  I  would  have  perished.  You  forsake 
yourselves  in  forsaking  me,  and  since  I  no  longer  rule 
over  brave  men,  I  resign  my  power  to  the  tyrant  you 
prefer.  Seven  months  I  have  ruled  over  you,  pros- 
perous in  commerce,  stainless  in  justice — victorious  in 
the  field ; — I  have  shown  you  what  Rome  could  be ; 
and  since  I  abdicate  the  government  ye  gave  me,  when 
I  am  gone,  strike  for  your  own  freedom!  It  matters 
nothing  who  is  the  chief  of  a  brave  and  great  people. 
Prove  that  Rome  hath  many  a  Rienzi,  but  of  brighter 
fortunes." 

"  I  would  he  had  not  sought  to  tax  us,"  said  Cecco 
del  Vecchio,  who  was  the  very  personification  of  the 
vulgar  feeling :  "  and  that  he  had  beheaded  the 
Barons ! " 


362  RIENZI 

"  Ay !  "  cried  the  ex-gravedigger ;  "  but  that  blessed 
porphyry  vase ! " 

"  And  why  should  we  get  our  throats  cut,"  said 
Luigi,  the  butcher,  "  like  my  two  brothers  ? — Heaven 
rest  them ! " 

On  the  face  of  the  general  multitude  there  was  a 
common  expression  of  irresolution  and  shame,  many 
wept  and  groaned,  none  (save  the  aforesaid  grumblers) 
accused;  none  upbraided,  but  none  seemed  disposed  to 
arm.  It  was  one  of  those  listless  panics,  those  strange 
fits  of  indifference  and  lethargy  which  often  seize  upon 
a  people  who  make  liberty  a  matter  of  impulse  and 
caprice,  to  whom  it  has  become  a  catchword,  who  have 
not  long  enjoyed  all  its  rational,  and  sound,  and  prac- 
tical, and  blessed  results ;  who  have  been  affrayed  by 
the  storms  that  herald  its  dawn ; — a  people  such  as  is 
common  to  the  south :  such  as  even  the  north  has 
known;  such  as,  had  Cromwell  lived  a  year  longer, 
even  England  might  have  seen ;  and,  indeed,  in  some 
measure,  such  a  reaction  from  popular  enthusiasm  to 
popular  indifference  England  did  see,  when  her  chil- 
dren madly  surrendered  the  fruits  of  a  bloody  war, 
without  reserve,  without  foresight,  to  the  lewd  pen- 
sioner of  Louis,  and  the  royal  murderer  of  Sydney. 
To  such  prostration  of  soul,  such  blindness  of  intellect, 
even  the  noblest  people  will  be  subjected,  when  liberty, 
which  should  be  the  growth  of  ages,  spreading  its  roots 
through  the  strata  of  a  thousand  customs,  is  raised, 
the  exotic  of  an  hour,  and  (like  the  Tree  and  Dryad 
of  ancient  fable)  flourishes  and  withers  with  the  single 
spirit  that  protects  it. 

"  Oh,  Heaven,  that  I  were  a  man !  "  exclaimed  An- 
gelo,  who  stood  behind  Rienzi. 

"  Hear  him,  hear  the  boy,"  cried  the  Tribune ;  "  out 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES        363 

of  the  mouths  of  babes  speaketh  wisdom !  He  wishes 
that  he  were  a  man,  as  ye  are  men,  that  he  might  do  as 
ye  should  do.  Mark  me, — I  ride  with  these  faithful 
few  through  the  quarter  of  the  Colonna,  before  the 
fortress  of  your  foe.  Three  times  before  that  fortress 
shall  my  trumpet  sound ;  if  at  the  third  blast  ye  come 
not,  armed  as  befits  ye — I  say  not  all,  but  three,  but 
two,  but  one  hundred  of  ye — I  break  up  my  wand  of 
office,  and  the  world  shall  say  one  hundred  and  fifty 
robbers  quelled  the  soul  of  Rome,  and  crushed  her 
magistrate  and  her  laws !  " 

With  those  words  he  descended  the  stairs,  and 
mounted  his  charger;  the  populace  gave  way  in 
silence,  and  their  Tribune  and  his  slender  train  passed 
slowly  on,  and  gradually  vanished  from  the  view  of  the 
increasing  crowd. 

The  Romans  remained  on  the  place,  and  after  a 
pause,  the  demagogue  Baroncelli,  who  saw  an  opening 
to  his  ambition,  addressed  them.  Though  not  an  elo- 
quent nor  gifted  man,  he  had  the  art  of  uttering  the 
most  popular  commonplaces.  And  he  knew  the  weak 
side  of  his  audience,  in  their  vanity,  indolence,  and 
arrogant  pride. 

"  Look  you,  my  masters,"  said  he,  leaping  up  to  the 
Place  of  the  Lion ;  "  the  Tribune  talks  bravely — he 
always  did — but  the  monkey  used  the  cat  for  his  chest- 
nuts ;  he  wants  to  thrust  your  paws  into  the  fire ;  you 
will  not  be  so  silly  as  to  let  him.  The  saints  bless  us ! 
But  the  Tribune,  good  man,  gets  a  palace  and  has  ban- 
quets, and  bathes  in  a  porphyry  vase ;  the  more  shame 
on  him ! — :in  which  San  Sylvester  christened  the  Em- 
peror Constantine :  all  this  is  worth  fighting  for ;  but 
you,  my  masters,  what  do  you  get  except  hard  blows, 
and  a  stare  at  a  holyday  spectacle  ?  Why,  if  you  beat 


364  RIENZI 

these  fellows,  you  will  have  another  tax  on  the  wine : 
that  will  be  your  reward !  " 

"  Hark !  "  cried  Cecco,  "  there  sounds  the  trumpet, 
— a  pity  he  wanted  to  tax  us !  " 

"  True,"  cried  Baroncelli,  "  there  sounds  the  trum- 
pet; a  silver  trumpet,  by  the  Lord!  Next  week,  if 
you  help  him  out  of  the  scrape,  he'll  have  a  golden  one. 
But  go — why  don't  you  move,  my  friends? — 'tis  but 
one  hundred  and  fifty  mercenaries.  True,  they  are 
devils  to  fight,  clad  in  armour  from  top  to  toe,  but 
what  then  ? — if  they  do  cut  some  four  or  five  hundred 
throats  you'll  beat  them  at  last,  and  the  Tribune  will 
sup  the  merrier." 

"  There  sounds  the  second  blast,"  said  the  butcher. 
"  If  my  old  mother  had  not  lost  two  of  us  already,  'tis 
odds,  but  I'd  strike  a  blow  for  the  bold  tribune." 

"  You  had  better  put  more  quicksilver  in  you,"  con- 
tinued Baroncelli,  "  or  you  will  be  too  late.  And  what 
a  pity  that  will  be ! — if  you  believe  the  Tribune,  he  is 
the  only  man  that  can  save  Rome.  What,  you,  the 
finest  people  in  the  world — you,  not  able  to  save  your- 
selves!— you,  bound  up  with  one  man — you,  not  able 
to  dictate  to  the  Colonna  and  Orsini !  Why,  who  beat 
the  Barons  at  San  Lorenzo  ?  Was  it  not  you  ?  Ah ! 
you  got  the  buffets,  and  the  Tribune  the  moneta! 
Tush,  my  friends,  let  the  man  go ;  I  warrant  there  are 
plenty  as  good  as  he  to  be  bought  a  cheaper  bar- 
gain. And,  hark !  there  is  the  third  blast ;  it  is  too 
late  now ! " 

As  the  trumpet  from  the  distance  sent  forth  its  long 
and  melancholy  note,  it  was  as  the  last  warning  of  the 
parting  genius  of  the  place ;  and  when  silence  swal- 
lowed up  the  sound,  a  gloom  fell  over  the  whole  as- 
sembly. They  began  to  regret,  to  repent,  when  regret 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES        365 

and  repentance  availed  no  more.  The  buffoonery 
of  Baroncelli  became  suddenly  displeasing;  and  the 
orator  had  the  mortification  of  seeing  his  audience  dis- 
perse in  all  directions,  just  as  he  was  about  to  inform, 
them  what  great  things  he  himself  could  do  in  their 
behalf. 

Meanwhile  the  Tribune,  passing  unscathed  through 
the  dangerous  quarter  of  the  enemy,  who,  .dismayed 
at  his  approach,  shrunk  within  their  fortress,  pro- 
ceeded to  the  Castle  of  St.  Angelo,  whither  Nina  had 
already  preceded  him ;  and  which  he  entered  to  find 
that  proud  lady  with  a  smile  for  his  safety, — without  a 
tear  for  his  reverse. 


CHAPTER    VII 

THE  SUCCESSORS  OF  AN  UNSUCCESSFUL  REVOLUTION 

WHO    IS    TO    BLAME THE    FORSAKEN    ONE    OR    THE 

FORSAKERS? 

Cheerfully  broke  the  winter  sun  over  the  streets 
of  Rome,  as  the  army  of  the  Barons  swept  along  them. 
The  Cardinal  Legate  at  the  head ;  the  old  Colonna  (no 
longer  haughty  and  erect,  but  bowed,  and  broken- 
hearted at  the  loss  of  his  sons)  at  his  right  hand ; — the 
sleek  smile  of  Luca  Savelli — the  black  frown  of  Rinal- 
do  Orsini,  were  seen  close  behind.  A  long  but  bar- 
barous array  it  was ;  made  up  chiefly  of  foreign  hire- 
lings ;  nor  did  the  procession  resemble  the  return  of 
exiled  citizens,  but  the  march  of  invading  foes. 

"  My  Lord  Colonna,"  said  the  Cardinal  Legate,  a 
small  withered  man,  by  birth  a  Frenchman,  and  full  of 
the  bitterest  prejudices  against  the  Romans,  who  had 


366  RIENZI 

in  a  former  mission  very  ill  received  him,  as  was  their 
wont  with  foreign  ecclesiastics ;  "  this  Pepin,  whom 
Montreal  has  deputed  at  your  orders,  hath  done  us 
indeed  good  service." 

The  old  Lord  bowed,  but  made  no  answer.  His 
strong  intellect  was  already  broken,  and  there  was 
dotage  in  his  glassy  eye.  The  Cardinal  muttered, 
"  He  hears  me  not ;  sorrow  hath  brought  him  to  second 
childhood ! "  and  looking  back,  motioned  to  Luca 
Savelli  to  approach. 

"  Luca,"  said  the  Legate,  "  it  was  fortunate  that  the 
Hungarian's  black  banner  detained  the  Provencal  at 
Aversa.  Had  he  entered  Rome,  we  might  have  found 
Rienzi's  successor  worse  than  the  Tribune  himself. 
Montreal,"  he  added,  with  a  slight  emphasis  and  a 
curled  lip,  "  is  a  gentleman,  and  a  Frenchman.  This 
Pepin,  who  is  his  delegate,  we  must  bribe,  or  menace 
to  our  will." 

"  Assuredly,"  answered  Savelli,  "  it  is  not  a  difficult 
task :  for  Montreal  calculated  on  a  more  stubborn  con- 
test, which  he  himself  would  have  found  leisure  to 
close " 

"  As  Podesta,  or  Prince  of  Rome !  the  modest  man ! 
We  Frenchmen  have  a  due  sense  of  our  own  merits ; 
but  this  sudden  victory  surprises  him  as  it  doth  us, 
Luca;  and  we  shall  wrest  the  prey  from  Pepin,  ere 
Montreal  can  come  to  his  help!  But  Rienzi  must  die. 
He  is  still,  I  hear,  shut  up  in  St.  Angelo.  The  Orsini 
shall  storm  him  there  ere  the  day  be  much  older.  To- 
day we  possess  the  Capitol — annul  all  the  rebel's  laws 
— break  up  his  ridiculous  parliament,  and  put  all  the 
government  of  the  city  under  three  senators — Rinaldo 
Orsini,  Colonna,  and  myself;  you,  my  Lord,  I  trust, 
we  shall  fitly  provide  for." 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES        367 

"  Oh !  I  am  rewarded  enough  by  returning  to  my 
palace;  and  a  descent  on  the  Jewellers'  quarter  will 
soon  build  up  its  fortifications.  Luca  Savelli  is  not 
an  ambitious  man.  He  wants  but  to  live  in  peace." 

The  Cardinal  smiled  sourly,  and  took  the  turn 
towards  the  Capitol. 

In  the  front  space  the  usual  gapers  were  assembled. 
"  Make  way !  make  way !  knaves !  "  cried  the  guards, 
trampling  on  either  side  the  crowd,  who,  accustomed 
to  the  sedate  and  courteous  order  of  Rienzi's  guard, 
fell  back  too  slowly  for  many  of  them  to  escape  severe 
injury  from  the  pikes  of  the  soldiers  and  the  hoofs 
of  the  horses.  Our  friend,  Luigi,  the  butcher,  was 
one  of  these,  and  the  surliness  of  the  Roman  blood  was 
past  boiling  heat  when  he  received  in  his  ample  stom- 
ach the  blunt  end  of  a  German's  pike.  "  There, 
Roman,"  said  the  rude  mercenary,  in  his  barbarous 
attempt  at  Italian,  "  make  way  for  your  betters ;  you 
have  had  enough  crowds  and  shows  of  late,  in  all  con- 
science." 

"  Betters !  "  gulped  out  the  poor  butcher ;  "  a  Ro- 
man has  no  betters;  and  if  I  had  not  lost  two  brothers 
by  San  Lorenzo,  I  would " 

"The  dog  is  mutinous,"  said  one  of  the __ followers 
of  the  Orsini,  succeeding  the  German  who  had  passed 
on,  "  and  talks  of  San  Lorenzo !  " 

"  Oh ! "  said  another  Orsinist,  who  rode  abreast, 
"  I  remember  him  of  old.  He  was  one  of  Rienzi's 
gang." 

"  Was  he  ?  "  said  the  other,  sternly ;  "  then  we  can- 
not begin  salutary  examples  too  soon ;  "  and,  offended 
at  something  swaggering  and  insolent  in  the  butcher's 
look,  the  Orsinist  coolly  thrust  him  through  the  heart 
with  his  pike,  and  rode  on  over  his  body. 


368  RIENZI 

"Shame!  Shame!"  "Murder!  Murder!"  cried 
the  crowd :  and  they  began  to  press,  in  the  passion  of 
the  moment,  round  the  fierce  guards. 

The  Legate  heard  the  cry,  and  saw  the  rush :  he 
turned  pale.  "  The  rascals  rebel  again !  "  he  faltered. 

"  No,  your  Eminence — no,"  said  Luca ;  "  but  it  may 
be  as  well  to  infuse  a  wholesome  terror;  they  are  all 
unarmed;  let  me  bid  the  guards  disperse  them.  A 
word  will  do  it." 

The  Cardinal  assented ;  the  word  was  given ;  and, 
in  a  few  minutes,  the  soldiery,  who  still  smarted  under 
the  vindictive  memory  of  defeat  from  an  undisciplined 
multitude,  scattered  the  crowd  down  the  street  without 
scruple  or  mercy — riding  over  some,  spearing  others — 
filling  the  air  with  shrieks  and  yells,  and  strewing  the 
ground  with  almost  as  many  men  as  a  few  days  before 
would  have  sufficed  to  have  guarded  Rome,  and  pre- 
served the  constitution !  Through  this  wild,  tumul- 
tuous scene,  and  over  the  bodies  of  its  victims,  rode 
the  Legate  and  his  train,  to  receive  in  the  Hall  of  the 
Capitol  the  allegiance  of  the  citizens,  and  to  proclaim 
the  return  of  the  oppressors. 

As  they  dismounted  at  the  stairs,  a  placard  in  large 
letters  struck  the  eye  of  the  Legate.  It  was  placed 
upon  the  pedestal  of  the  Lion  of  Basalt,  covering  the 
very  place  that  had  been  occupied  by  the  bull  of  ex- 
communication. The  words  were  few,  and  ran  thus : 

"  TREMBLE  !  RIENZI  SHALL  RETURN  !  " 

"  How !  what  means  this  mummery !  "  cried  the 
Legate,  trembling  already,  and  looking  round  to  the 
nobles. 

"  Please  your  Eminence,"  said  one  of  the  council- 
lors, who  had  come  from  the  Capitol  to  meet  the 
Legate,  "  we  saw  it  at  daybreak,  the  ink  yet  moist, 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES        369 

as  we  entered  the  Hall.  We  deemed  it  best  to  leave 
it  for  your  Eminence  to  deal  with." 

"  You  deemed !     Who  are  you,  then  ?  " 

"  One  of  the  members  of  the  Council,  your  Em- 
inence, and  a  stanch  opponent  of  the  Tribune,  as  is 
well  known,  when  he  wanted  the  new  tax " 

"  Council — trash  !  No  more  councils  now  !  Order 
is  restored  at  last.  The  Orsini  and  the  Colonna  will 
look  to  you  in  future.  Resist  a  tax,  did  you?  Well, 
that  was  right  when  proposed  by  a  tyrant ;  but  /  warn 
you,  friend,  to  take  care  how  you  resist  the  tax  we 
shall  impose.  Happy  if  your  city  can  buy  its  peace 
with  the  Church  on  any  terms : — and  his  Holiness  is 
short  of  the  florins." 

The  discomfited  councillor  shrunk  back. 

"  Tear  off  yon  insolent  placard.  Nay,  hold  !  fix  over 
it  our  proclamation  of  ten  thousand  florins  for  the 
heretic's  head!  Ten  thousand?  methinks  that  is  too 
much  now — we  will  alter  the  cypher.  Meanwhile 
Rinaldo  Orsini,  Lord  Senator,  march  thy  soldiers 
to  St.  Angelo;  let  us  see  if  the  heretic  can  stand  a 
siege." 

"  It  needs  not,  your  Eminence,"  said  the  councillor, 
again  officiously  bustling  up ;  "  St.  Angelo  is  surren- 
dered. The  Tribune,  his  wife,  and  one  page,  escaped 
last  night,  it  is  said,  in  disguise." 

"  Ha ! "  said  the  old  Colonna,  whose  dulled  sense 
had  at  length  arrived  at  the  conclusion  that  something 
extraordinary  arrested  the  progress  of  his  friends. 
"  What  is  the  matter  ?  What  is  that  placard  ?  Will 
no  one  tell  me  the  words?  My  old  eyes  are  dim." 

As  he  uttered  the  questions,  in  the  shrill  and  piercing 
treble  of  age,  a  voice  replied  in  a  loud  and  deep  tone — 
none  knew  whence  it  came ;  the  crowd  was  reduced  to 
24 


370  RIENZI 

a  few  stragglers,  chiefly  friars  in  cowl  and  serge,  whose 
curiosity  nought  could  daunt,  and  whose  garb  ensured 
them  safety — the  soldiers  closed  the  rear:  a  voice,  I 
say,  came,  startling  the  colour  from  many  a  cheek — 
in  answer  to  the  Colonna,  saying: 
"TREMBLE!  RIENZI  SHALL  RETURN!" 


BOOK   VI 


THE  PLAGUE 

"  Erano  gli  anni  dolla  fruttifera  Incarnazione  del  Figliuolo 
di  Dio  al  numero  pervenuti  di  mille  trecento  quarant'otto, 
quando  nell'  egregia  citta  di  Fiorenza  oitre  ad  ogni  altra 
Italica  bellissima,  pervenne  la  mortifera  pestilenza." — BOC- 
CACCIO, Introduzione  al  Decamerone. 

"  The  years  of  the  fructiferous  incarnation  of  the  Son  of 
God  had  reached  the  number  of  one  thousand  three  hundred 
and  forty-eight,  when  into  the  illustrious  city  of  Florence, 
beautiful  beyond  every  other  in  Italy,  entered  the  death- 
fraught  pestilence." — Introduction  to  the  Decameron. 


CHAPTER    I 

THE    RETREAT    OF   THE   LOVER 

By  the  borders  of  one  of  the  fairest  lakes  of  North- 
ern Italy  stood  the  favourite  mansion  of  Adrian  di  Cas- 
tello,  to  which  in  his  softer  and  less  patriotic  moments 
his  imagination  had  often  and  fondly  turned;  and 
thither  the  young"  nobleman,  dismissing  his  more 
courtly  and  distinguished  companions  in  the  Neapoli- 
tan embassy,  retired  after  his  ill-starred  return  to 
Rome.  Most  of  those  thus  dismissed  joined  the 
Barons ;  the  young  Annibaldi,  whose  daring  and  am- 
bitious nature  had  attached  him  strongly  to  the  Trib- 
une, maintained  a  neutral  ground ;  he  betook  himself 
to  his  castle  in  the  Campagna,  and  did  not  return  to 
Rome  till  the  expulsion  of  Rienzi. 

The  retreat  of  Irene's  lover  was  one  well  fitted  to 

37i 


372  RIENZI 

feed  his  melancholy  reveries.  Without  being  abso- 
lutely a  fortress,  it  was  sufficiently  strong  to  resist  any 
assault  of  the  mountain  robbers  or  petty  tyrants  in  the 
vicinity;  while,  built  by  some  former  lord  from  the 
materials  of  the  half-ruined  villas  of  the  ancient  Ro- 
mans, its  marbled  columns  and  tessellated  pavements 
relieved  with  a  wild  grace  the  gray  stone  walls  and 
massive  towers  of  feudal  masonry.  Rising  from  a 
green  eminence  gently  sloping  to  the  lake,  the  stately 
pile  cast  its  shadow  far  and  dark  over  the  beautiful 
waters ;  by  its  side,  from  the  high  and  wooded  moun- 
tains on  the  background,  broke  a  waterfall,  in  irregu- 
lar and  sinuous  course — now  hid  by  the  foliage,  now 
gleaming  in  the  light,  and  collecting  itself  at  last  in  a 
broad  basin — beside  which  a  little  fountain,  inscribed 
with  half-obliterated  letters,  attested  the  departed 
elegance  of  the  classic  age — some  memento  of  lord 
and  poet  whose  very  names  were  lost ;  thence  descend- 
ing through  mosses  and  lichen,  and  odorous  herbs,  a 
brief,  sheeted  stream  bore  its  surplus  into  the  lake, 
And  there,  amidst  the  sturdier  and  bolder  foliage  of 
the  North,  grew,  wild  and  picturesque,  many  a  tree 
transplanted,  in  ages  back,  from  the  sunnier  East ;  not 
blighted  nor  stunted  in  that  golden  clime,  which  fos- 
ters almost  every  produce  of  nature  as  with  a  mother's 
care.  The  place  was  remote  and  solitary.  The  roads 
that  conducted  to  it  from  the  distant  towns  were 
tangled,  intricate,  mountainous,  and  beset  by  robbers. 
A  few  cottages,  and  a  small  convent,  a  quarter  of  a 
league  up  the  verdant  margin,  were  the  nearest  habita- 
tions :  and,  save  by  some  occasional  pilgrim  or  some 
bewildered  traveller,  the  loneliness  of  the  mansion  was 
rarely  invaded.  It  was  precisely  the  spot  which  prof- 
fered rest  to  a  man  weary  of  the  world,  and  indulged 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES        373 

the  memories  which  grow  in  rank  luxuriance  over  the 
wrecks  of  passion.  And  he  whose  mind,  at  once  gen- 
tle and  self-dependent,  can  endure  solitude,  might  have 
ransacked  all  earth  for  a  more  fair  and  undisturbed 
retreat. 

But  not  to  such  a  solitude  had  the  earlier  dreams 
of  Adrian  dedicated  the  place.  Here  had  he  thought 
— should  one  bright  being  have  presided — here  should 
love  have  found  its  haven :  and  hither,  when  love  at 
length  admitted  of  intrusion,  hither  might  wealth  and 
congenial  culture  have  invited  all  the  gentler  and  bet- 
ter spirits  which  had  begun  to  move  over  the  troubled 
face  of  Italy,  promising  a  second  and  younger  empire 
of  poesy,  and  lore,  and  art.  To  the  graceful  and 
romantic  but  somewhat  pensive  and  inert,  tempera- 
ment of  the  young  noble,  more  adapted  to  calm  and 
civilised  than  stormy  and  barbarous  times,  ambition 
proffered  no  reward  so  grateful  as  lettered  leisure  and 
intellectual  repose.  His  youth  coloured  by  the  in- 
fluence of  Petrarch,  his  manhood  had  dreamed  of  a 
happier  Vaucluse  not  untenanted  by  a  Laura.  The 
visions  which  had  connected  the  scene  with  the  image 
of  Irene  made  the  place  still  haunted  by  her  shade; 
and  time  and  absence  only  ministering  to  his  impas- 
sioned meditations,  deepened  his  melancholy  and  in- 
creased his  love. 

In  this  lone  retreat — which  even  in  describing  from 
memory,  for  these  eyes  have  seen,  these  feet  have  trod- 
den, this  heart  yet  yearneth  for,  the  spot — which  even,  I 
say,  in  thus  describing,  seems  to  me  (and  haply  also  to 
the  gentle  reader)  a  grateful  and  welcome  transit  from 
the  storms  of  action  and  the  vicissitudes  of  ambition, 
so  long  engrossing  the  narrative ; — in  this  lone  retreat 
Adrian  passed  the  winter,  which  visits  with  so  mild 


374  RIENZI 

a  change  that  intoxicating  clime.  The  roar  of  the 
world  without  was  borne  but  in  faint  and  indistinct 
murmurings  to  his  ear.  He  learned  only  imperfectly, 
and  with  many  contradictions,  the  news  which  broke 
like  a  thunderbolt  over  Italy,  that  the  singular  and  as- 
piring man — himself  a  revolution — who  had  excited 
the  interest  of  all  Europe,  the  brightest  hopes  of  the 
enthusiastic,  the  profusest  adulation  of  the  great,  the 
deepest  terror  of  the  despot,  the  wildest  aspirations  of 
all  free  spirits,  had  been  suddenly  stricken  from  his 
state,  his  name  branded  and  his  head  proscribed.  This 
event,  which  happened  at  the  end  of  December, 
reached  Adrian,  through  a  wandering  pilgrim,  at  the 
commencement  of  March,  somewhat  more  than  two 
months  after  the  date ;  the  March  of  that  awful  year 
1348,  which  saw  Europe,  and  Italy  especially,  deso- 
lated by  the  direst  pestilence  which  history  has  re- 
corded, accursed  alike  by  the  numbers  and  the  celeb- 
rity of  its  victims,  and  yet  strangely  connected  with 
some  not  unpleasing  images  by  the  grace  of  Boccaccio 
and  the  eloquence  of  Petrarch. 

The  pilgrim  who  informed  Adrian  of  the  revolution 
at  Rome  was  unable  to  give  him  any  clue  to  the  pres- 
ent fate  of  Rienzi  or  his  family.  It  was  only  known 
that  the  Tribune  and  his  wife  had  escaped,  none  knew 
whither;  many  guessed  that  they  were  already  dead, 
victims  to  the  numerous  robbers  who  immediately  on 
the  fall  of  the  Tribune  settled  back  to  their  former 
habits,  sparing  neither  age  nor  sex,  wealth  nor  pov- 
erty. As  all  relating  to  the  ex-Tribune  was  matter  of 
eager  interest,  the  pilgrim  had  also  learned  that, 
previous  to  the  fall  of  Rienzi,  his  sister  had  left  Rome, 
but  it  was  not  known  to  what  place  she  had  been  con- 
veyed. 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES        375 

The  news  utterly  roused  Adrian  from  his  dreaming 
life.  Irene  was  then  in  the  condition  his  letter  dared 
to  picture — severed  from  her  brother,  fallen  from  her 
rank,  desolate  and  friendless.  "  Now,"  said  the  gen- 
erous and  high-hearted  lover,  "  she  may  be  mine  with- 
out a  disgrace  to  my  name.  Whatever  Rienzi's  faults, 
she  is  not  implicated  in  them.  Her  hands  are  not  red 
with  my  kinsman's  blood ;  nor  can  men  say  that  Adrian 
di  Castello  allies  himself  with  a  House  whose  power  is 
built  upon  the  ruins  of  the  Colonnas.  The  Colonna 
are  restored — again  triumphant — Rienzi  is  nothing — 
distress  and  misfortune  unite  me  at  once  to  her  on 
whom  they  fall !  " 

But  how  were  these  romantic  resolutions  to  be  exe- 
cuted— Irene's  dwelling-place  unknown  ?  He  resolved 
himself  to  repair  to  Rome  and  make  the  necessary  in- 
quiries :  accordingly  he  summoned  his  retainers : — 
blithe  tidings  to  them,  those  of  travel !  The  mail  left 
the  armoury — the  banner  the  hall — and  after  two  days 
of  animated  bustle,  the  fountain  by  which  Adrian  had 
passed  so  many  hours  of  reverie  was  haunted  only  by 
the  birds  of  the  returning  spring ;  and  the  nightly  lamp 
no  longer  cast  its  solitary  ray  from  his  turret  chamber 
over  the  bosom  of  the  deserted  lake. 


CHAPTER    II 

THE    SEEKER 


It  was  a  bright,  oppressive,  sultry  morning,  when 
a  solitary  horseman  was  seen  winding  that  unequalled 
road,  from  whose  height,  amidst  fig-trees,  vines,  and 
olives,  the  traveller  beholds  gradually  break  upon  his 


RIENZI 

gaze  the  enchanting  valley  of  the  Arno,  and  the  spires 
and  domes  of  Florence.  But  not  with  the  traveller's 
customary  eye  of  admiration  and  delight  passed  that 
solitary  horseman,  and  not  upon  the  usual  activity,  and 
mirth,  and  animation  of  the  Tuscan  life,  broke  that 
noon-day  sun.  All  was  silent,  void  and  hushed ;  and 
even  in  the  light  of  heaven  there  seemed  a  sicklied  and 
ghastly  glare.  The  cottages  by  the  road-side  were 
some  shut  up  and  closed,  some  open,  but  seemingly 
inmateless.  The  plough  stood  still,  the  distaff  plied 
not :  horse  and  man  had  a  dreary  holiday.  There  was 
a  darker  curse  upon  the  land  than  the  curse  of  Cain ! 
Now  and  then  a  single  figure,  usually  clad  in  the 
gloomy  robe  of  a  friar,  crossed  the  road,  lifting 
towards  the  traveller  a  livid  and  amazed  stare,  and 
then  hurried  on,  and  vanished  beneath  some  roof, 
whence  issued  a  faint  and  dying  moan,  which  but  for 
the  exceeding  stillness  around  could  scarcely  have 
pierced  the  threshold.  As  the  traveller  neared  the 
city,  the  scene  became  less  solitary,  yet  more  dread. 
There  might  be  seen  carts  and  litters,  thick  awnings 
wrapped  closely  round  them,  containing  those  who 
sought  safety  in  flight,  forgetful  that  the  Plague  was 
everywhere!  And  while  these  gloomy  vehicles,  con- 
ducted by  horses,  gaunt,  shadowy  skeletons,  crawling 
heavily  along,  passed  by,  like  hearses  of  the  dead, 
sometimes  a  cry  burst  the  silence  in  which  they  moved, 
and  the  traveller's  steed  started  aside,  as  some  wretch, 
on  whom  the  disease  had  broke  forth,  was  dropped 
from  the  vehicle  by  the  selfish  inhumanity  of  his  com- 
rades, and  left  to  perish  by  the  way.  Hard  by  the 
gate  a  waggon  paused,  and  a  man  with  a  mask  threw 
out  its  contents  in  a  green  slimy  ditch  that  bordered 
the  road.  These  were  ferments  and  robes  of  all  kind 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES        377 

and  value ;  the  broidered  mantle  of  the  gallant,  the 
hood  and  veil  of  my  lady,  and  the  rags  of-  the  peasant. 
While  glancing  at  the  labour  of  the  masker,  the  cava- 
lier beheld  a  herd  of  swine,  gaunt  and  half  famished, 
run  to  the  spot  in  the  hopes  of  food,  and  the  traveller 
shuddered  to  think  what  food  they  might  have  antici- 
pated !  But  ere  he  reached  the  gate,  those  of  the  ani- 
mals that  had  been  busiest  rooting  at  the  infectious 
heap,  dropped  down  dead  amongst  their  fellows.* 

"  Ho,  ho,"  said  the  masker,  and  his  hollow  voice 
sounded  yet  more  hollow  through  his  vizard, — "  com- 
est  thou  here  to  die,  stranger?  See,  thy  brave  mantle 
of  triple-pile  and  golden  broidery  will  not  save  thee 
from  the  gavocciolo.f  Ride  on,  ride  on; — to-day  fit 
morsel  for  thy  lady's  kiss,  to-morrow  too  foul  for  the 
rat  and  worm !  " 

Replying  not  to  this  hideous  welcome,  Adrian,  for 
it  was  he,  pursued  his  way.  The  gates  stood  wide 
open :  this  was  the  most  appalling  sign  of  all,  for,  at 
first,  the  most  jealous  precaution  had  been  taken 
against  the  ingress  of  strangers.  Now  all  care,  all 
foresight,  all  vigilance,  were  vain.  And  thrice  nine 
warders  had  died  at  that  single  post,  and  the  officers 
to  appoint  their  successors  were  dead  too !  Law  and 
Police,  and  the  Tribunals  of  Health,  and  the  Boards 
of  Safety,  Death  had  stopped  them  all !  And  the 
Plague  killed  art  itself,  social  union,  the  harmony  and 
mechanism  of  civilisation,  as  if  they  had  been  bone 
and  flesh ! 

So,  mute  and  solitary,  went  on  the  lover,  in  his  quest 
of  love,  resolved  to  find  and  to  save  his  betrothed,  and 

*  The  same  spectacle  greeted,  and  is  recorded  by,  Boc- 
caccio. 

t  The  tumour  that  made  the  fatal  symptom. 


378  RIENZI 

guided  (that  faithful  and  loyal  knight!)  through  the 
Wilderness  of  Horror  by  the  blessed  hope  of  that 
strange  passion,  noblest  of  all  when  noble,  basest  of 
all  when  base !  He  came  into  a  broad  and  spacious 
square  lined  with  palaces,  the  usual  haunt  of  the  best 
and  most  graceful  nobility  of  Italy.  The  stranger  was 
alone  now,  and  the  tramp  of  his  gallant  steed  sounded 
ghastly  and  fearful  in  his  own  ears,  when  just  as  he 
turned  the  corner  of  one  of  the  streets  that  led  from 
it,  he  saw  a  woman  steal  forth  with  a  child  in  her  arms, 
while  another,  yet  in  infancy,  clung  to  her  robe.  She 
held  a  large  bunch  of  flowers  to  her  nostrils  (the  fancied 
and  favourite  mode  to  prevent  infection),  and  mut- 
tered to  the  children,  who  were  moaning  with  hunger, 
— "  Yes,  yes,  you  shall  have  food !  Plenty  of  food 
now  for  the  stirring  forth.  But  oh,  that  stirring 
forth!  " — and  she  peered  about  and  round,  lest  any  of 
the  diseased  might  be  near. 

"  My  friend,"  said  he,  "  can  you  direct  me  to  the 
convent  of " 

"  Away,  man,  away !  "  shrieked  the  woman. 

"  Alas !  "  said  Adrian,  with  a  mournful  smile,  "  can 
you  not  see  that  I  am  not,  as  yet,  one  to  spread  con- 
tagion ?  " 

But  the  woman,  unheeding  him,  fled  on  ;  when,  after 
a  few  paces,  she  was  arrested  by  the  child  that  clung 
to  her. 

"  Mother,  mother !  "  it  cried,  "  I  am  sick — I  cannot 
stir." 

The  woman  halted,  tore  aside  the  child's  robe,  saw 
under  the  arm  the  fatal  tumour,  and,  deserting  her 
own  flesh,  fled  with  a  shriek  along  the  square.  The 
shriek  rung  long  in  Adrian's  ears,  though  not  aware 
of  the  unnatural  cause ; — the  mother  feared  not  for  her 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES        379 

infant,  but  herself.  The  voice  of  Nature  was  no  more 
heeded  in  that  charnel  city  than  it  is  in  the  tomb  itself ! 
Adrian  rode  on  at  a  brisker  pace,  and  came  at  length 
before  a  stately  church ;  its  doors  were  wide  open,  and 
he  saw  within  a  company  of  monks  (the  church  had 
no  other  worshippers,  and  they  were  masked)  gathered 
round  the  altar,  and  chanting  the  Miserere  Domine; — 
the  ministers  of  God,  in  a  city  hitherto  boasting  the  de- 
voutest  population  in  Italy,  without  a  flock  ! 

The  young  Cavalier  paused  before  the  door,  and 
waited  till  the  service  was  done,  and  the  monks  de- 
scended the  steps  into  the  street. 

"  Holy  fathers,"  said  he  then,  "  may  I  pray  your 
goodness  to  tell  me  my  nearest  way  to  the  convent 
Santa  Maria  de'  Pazzi  ?  " 

"  Son,"  said  one  of  these  featureless  spectres,  for  so 
they  seemed  in  their  shroud-like  robes,  and  uncouth 
vizards, — "  son,  pass  on  your  way,  and  God  be  with 
you.  Robbers  or  revellers  may  now  fill  the  holy 
cloisters  you  speak  of.  The  abbess  is  dead ;  and  many 
a  sister  sleeps  with  her.  And  the  nuns  have  fled  from 
the  contagion." 

Adrian  half  fell  from  his  horse,  and,  as  he  still  re- 
mained rooted  to  the  spot,  the  dark  procession  swept 
on,  hymning  in  solemn  dirge  through  the  desolate 
street  the  monastic  chaunt — 

"  By  the  Mother  and  the  Son, 
Death  endured  and  mercy  won; 
Spare  us,  sinners  though  we  be; 
Miserere  Domine!  " 

Recovering  from  his  stupor,  Adrian  regained  the 
brethren,  and,  as  they  closed  the  burthen  of  their  song, 
again  accosted  them. 

"  Holy  fathers,  dismiss  me  not  thus.     Perchance  the 


380  RIENZI 

one  I  seek  may  yet  be  heard  of  at  the  convent.    Tell 
me  which  way  to  shape  my  course." 

"  Disturb  us  not,  son,"  said  the  monk  who  spoke 
before.  "  It  is  an  ill  omen  for  thee  to  break  thus  upon 
the  invocations  of  the  ministers  6f  Heaven." 

"  Pardon,  pardon !  I  will  do  ample  penance,  pay 
many  masses ;  but  I  seek  a  dear  friend — the  way — the 
way " 

"  To  the  right,  till  you  gain  the  first  bridge.  Be- 
yond the  third  bridge,  on  the  river  side,  you  will  find 
the  convent,"  said  another  monk,  moved  by  the  ear- 
nestness of  Adrian. 

"  Bless  you,  holy  father,"  faltered  forth  the  Cavalier, 
and  spurred  his  steed  in  the  direction  given.  The 
friars  heeded  him  not,  but  again  resumed  their  dirge. 
Mingled  with  the  sound  of  his  horse's  hoofs  on  the 
clattering  pavement,  came  to  the  rider's  ear  the  im- 
ploring line —  .  • 
Miserere  Domine! 

Impatient,  sick  at  heart,  desperate,  Adrian  flew 
through  the  street  at  the  full  speed  of  his  horse.  He 
passed  the  market-place — it  was  empty  as  the  desert ; 
— the  gloomy  and  barricaded  streets,  in  which  the 
counter  cries  of  Guelf  and  Ghibelline  had  so  often 
cheered  on  the  Chivalry  and  Rank  of  Florence.  Now 
huddled  together  in  vault  and  pit,  lay  Guelf  and  Ghib- 
elline, knightly  spurs  and  beggar's  crutch.  To  that 
silence  the  roar  even  of  civil  strife  would  have  been 
a  blessing!  The  first  bridge,  the  river  side,  the 
second,  the  third  bridge,  all  were  gained,  and  Adrian 
at  last  reined  his  steed  before  the  walls  of  the  convent. 
He  fastened  his  steed  to  the  porch,  in  which  the  door 
stood  ajar,  half  torn  from  its  hinges,  traversed  the 
court,  gained  the  opposite  door  that  admitted  to  the 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES        381 

main  building,  came  to  the  jealous  grating,  now  no 
more  a  barrier  from  the  profane  world,  and  as  he  there 
paused  a  moment  to  recover  breath  and  nerve,  wild 
laughter  and  loud  song,  interrupted  and  mixed  with 
oaths,  startled  his  ear.  He  pushed  aside  the  grated 
door,  entered,  and,  led  by  the  sounds,  came  to  the  re- 
fectory. In  that  meeting-place  of  the  severe  and  mor- 
tified maids  of  heaven,  he  now  beheld  gathered  round 
the  upper  table,  used  of  yore  by  the  abbess,  a  strange, 
disorderly,  ruffian  herd,  who  at  first  glance  seemed  in- 
deed of  all  ranks,  for  some  wore  serge,  or  even  rags, 
others  were  tricked  out  in  all  the  bravery  of  satin  and 
velvet,  plume  and  mantle.  But  a  second  glance  suf- 
ficed to  indicate  that  the  companions  were  much  of 
the  same  degree,  and  that  the  finery  of  the  more  showy 
was  but  the  spoil  rent  from  unguarded  palaces  or  ten- 
antless  bazaars;  for  under  plumed  hats,  looped  with 
jewels,  were  grim,  unwashed,  unshaven  faces,  over 
which  hung  the  long  locks  which  the  professed  breth- 
ren of  the  sharp  knife  and  hireling  arm  had  just  begun 
to  assume,  serving  them  often  instead  of  a  mask. 
Amidst  these  savage  revellers  were  many  women, 
young  and  middle-aged,  foul  and  fair,  and  Adrian 
piously  shuddered  to  see  amongst  the  loose  robes  and 
uncovered  necks  of  the  professional  harlots  the  saintly 
habit  and  beaded  rosary  of  nuns.  Flasks  of  wine, 
ample  viands,  gold  and  silver  vessels,  mostly  conse- 
crated to  holy  rites,  strewed  the  board.  As  the  young 
Roman  paused  spell-bound  at  the  threshold,  the  man 
who  acted  as  president  of  the  revel,  a  huge,  swarthy 
ruffian,  with  a  deep  scar  over  his  face,  which,  trav- 
ersing the  whole  of  the  left  cheek  and  upper  lip,  gave 
his  large  features  an  aspect  preternaturally  hideous, 
called  out  to  him — 


382  RIENZI 

"  Come  in,  man — come  in !  Why  stand  you  there 
amazed  and  dumb?  We  are  hospitable  revellers,  and 
give  all  men  welcome.  Here  are  wine  and  women. 
My  Lord  Bishop's  wine  and  my  Lady  Abbess's 
women ! 

"  Sing  hey,  sing  ho,  for  the  royal  DEATH, 
That  scatters  a  host  with  a  single  breath; 
That  opens  the  prison  to  spoil  the  palace, 
And  rids  honest  necks  from  the  hangman's  malice. 
Here's  a  health  to  the  Plague!     Let  the  mighty  ones  dread, 
The  poor  never  lived  till  the  wealthy  were  dead. 
A  health  to  the  Plague!  may  she  ever  as  now 
Loose  the  rogue  from  his  chain  and  the  nun  from  her  vow; 
To  the  .gaoler  a  sword,  to  the  captive  a  key, 
Hurrah  for  Earth's  Curse — 'tis  a  blessing  to  me!  " 

Ere  this  fearful  stave  was  concluded,  Adrian,  sen- 
sible that  in  such  orgies  there  was  no  chance  of  prose- 
cuting his  inquiries,  left  the  desecrated  chamber  and 
fled,  scarcely  drawing  breath,  so  great  was  the  terror 
that  seized  him,  till  he  stood  once  more  in  the  court 
amidst  the  hot,  sickly,  stagnant  sunlight,  that  seemed 
a  fit  atmosphere  for  the  scenes  on  which  it  fell.  He 
resolved,  however,  not  to  desert  the  place  without 
making  another  effort  at  inquiry ;  and  while  he  stood 
without  the  court,  musing  and  doubtful,  he  saw  a  small 
chapel  hard  by,  through  whose  long  casement  gleamed 
faintly,  and  dimmed  by  the  noon-day,  the  light  of 
tapers.  He  turned  towards  its  porch,  entered,  and 
saw  beside  the  sanctuary  a  single  nun  kneeling  in 
prayer.  In  the  narrow  aisle,  upon  a  long  table,  (at 
either  end  of  which  burned  the  tall  dismal  tapers  whose 
rays  had  attracted  him,)  the  drapery  of  several  shrouds 
showed  him  the  half-distinct  outline  of  human  figures 
hushed  in  death.  Adrian  himself,  impressed  by  the 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES        383 

sadness  and  sanctity  of  the  place,  and  the  touching 
sight  of  that  solitary  and  unselfish  watcher  of  the  dead, 
knelt  down  and  intensely  prayed. 

As  he  rose,  somewhat  relieved  from  the  burthen  at 
his  heart,  the  nun  rose  also,  and  started  to  perceive 
him. 

"  Unhappy  man !  "  said  she,  in  a  voice  which,  low, 
faint,  and  solemn,  sounded  as  a  ghost's — "  what  fatal- 
ity brings  thee  hither  ?  Seest  thou  not  thou  art  in  the 
presence  of  clay  which  the  Plague  hath  touched — thou 
breathest  the  air  which  destroys !  Hence  !  and  search 
throughout  all  the  desolation  for  one  spot  where  the 
Dark  Visitor  hath  not  come !  " 

"  Holy  maiden,"  answered  Adrian,  "  the  danger  you 
hazard  does  not  appal  me ; — I  seek  one  whose  life  is 
dearer  than  my  own." 

"  Thou  needest  say  no  more  to  tell  me  thou  art 
newly  come  to  Florence !  Here  son  forsakes  his 
father,  and  mother  deserts  her  child.  When  life  is 
most  hopeless,  these  worms  of  a  day  cling  to  it  as  if  it 
were  the  salvation  of  immortality !  But  for  me  alone, 
death  has  no  horror.  Long  severed  from  the  world, 
I  have  seen  my  sisterhood  perish — the  house  of  God 
desecrated — its  altar  overthrown,  and  I  care  not  to 
survive, — the  last  whom  the  Pestilence  leaves  at  once 
unperjured  and  alive." 

The  nun  paused  a  few  moments,  and  then,  looking 
earnestly  at  the  healthful  countenance  and  unbroken 
frame  of  Adrian,  sighed  heavily — "  Stranger,  why  fly 
you  not  ?  "  she  said.  "  Thou  mightest  as  well  search 
the  crowded  vaults  and  rotten  corruption  of  the  dead, 
as  search  the  city  for  one  living." 

"  Sister,  and  bride  of  the  blessed  Redeemer !  "  re- 
turned the  Roman,  clasping  his  hands — "  one  word  I 


384  RIENZI 

implore  thee.  Thou  art,  methinks,  of  the  sisterhood 
of  yon  dismantled  convent;  tell  me,  knowest  thou  if 
Irene  di  Gabrini,* — guest  of  the  late  Abbess,  sister  of 
the  fallen  Tribune  of  Rome, — be  yet  amongst  the 
living?" 

"  Art  thou  her  brother,  then  ?  "  said  the  nun.  "  Art 
thou  that  fallen  Sun  of  the  Morning  ?  " 

"  I  am  her  betrothed,"  replied  Adrian,  sadly. 
"  Speak." 

"  Oh,  flesh !  flesh !  how  art  thou  victor  to  the  last, 
even  amidst  the  triumphs  and  in  the  lazar-house  of 
corruption !  "  said  the  nun.  "  Vain  man !  think  not 
of  such  carnal  ties ;  make  thy  peace  with  heaven,  for 
thy  days  are  surely  numbered !  " 

"  Woman !  "  cried  Adrian,  impatiently — "  talk  not 
to  me  of  myself,  nor  rail  against  ties  whose  holiness 
thou  canst  not  know.  I  ask  thee  again,  as  thou  thy- 
self hopest  for  mercy  and  for  pardon,  is  Irene  living?  " 

The  nun  was  awed  by  the  energy  of  the  young  lover, 
and  after  a  moment,  which  seemed  to  him  an  age  of 
agonised  suspense,  she  replied — 

"  The  maiden  thou  speakest  of  died  not  with  the 
general  death.  In  the  dispersion  of  the  few  remain- 
ing, she  left  the  convent — I  know  not  whither;  but  she 
had  friends  in  Florence — their  names  I  cannot  tell 
thee." 

"  Now  bless  thee,  holy  sister !  bless  thee !  How 
long  since  she  left  the  convent  ?  " 

"  Four  days  have  passed  since  the  robber  and  the 
harlot  have  seized  the  house  of  Santa  Maria,"  replied 
the  nun,  groaning:  "and  they  were  quick  successors 
to  the  sisterhood." 

*  The  family  name  of  Rienzi  was  Gabrini. 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES        385 

"  Four  days ! — and  them  canst  give  me  no  clue  ?  " 

"  None — yet  stay,  young  man !  " — and  the  nun,  ap- 
proaching, lowered  her  voice  to  a  hissing  whisper — * 
"  Ask  the  Becchini."  * 

Adrian  started  aside,  crossed  himself  hastily,  and 
quitted  the  convent  without  answer.  He  returned  to 
his  horse,  and  rode  back  into  the  silenced  heart  of  the 
city.  Tavern  and  hotel  there  were  no  more ;  but  the 
palaces  of  dead  princes  were  free  to  the  living  stranger. 
He  entered  one — a  spacious  and  splendid  mansion. 
In  the  stables  he  found  forage  still  in  the  manger ;  but 
the  horses,  at  that  time  in  the  Italian  cities  a  proof  of 
rank  as  well  as  wealth,  were  gone  with  the  hands  that 
fed  them.  The  high-born  Knight  assurned  the  office 
of  groom,  took  off  the  heavy  harness,  fastened  his  steed 
to  the  rack,  and  as  the  wearied  animal,  unconscious 
of  the  surrounding  horrors,  fell  eagerly  upon  its  meal, 
its  young  lord  turned  away,  and  muttered,  "  Faithful 
servant,  and  sole  companion !  may  the  pestilence  that 
spareth  neither  beast  nor  man,  spare  thee !  and  may'st 
thou  bear  me  hence  with  a  lighter  heart !  " 

A  spacious  hall,  hung  with  arms  and  banners — a 
wide  flight  of  marble  stairs,  whose  walls  were  painted 
in  the  stiff  outlines  and  gorgeous  colours  of  the  day, 
conducted  to  vast  chambers,  hung  with  velvets  and 
cloth  of  gold,  but  silent  as  the  tomb.  He  threw  him- 
self upon  the  cushions  which  were  piled  in  the  centre 
of  the  room,  for  he  had  ridden  far  that  morning,  and 
for  many  days  before,  and  he  was  wearied  and  ex- 

*  According  to  the  usual  custom  of  Florence,  the  dead  were 
borne  to  their  resting-place  on  biers,  supported  by  citizens  of 
equal  rank;  but  a  new  trade  was  created  by  the  plague,  and 
men  of  the  lowest  dregs  of  the  populace,  bribed  by  immense 
payment,  discharged  the  office  of  transporting  the  remains  of 
the  victims.  These  were  called  Becchini. 

25 


386  RIENZI 

hausted,  body  and  limb;  but  he  could  not  rest.  Im- 
patience, anxiety,  hope,  and  fear,  gnawed  his  heart 
and  fevered  his  veins,  and,  after  a  brief  and  unsatisfac- 
tory attempt  to  sober  his  own  thoughts,  and  devise 
some  plan  of  search  more  certain  than  that  which 
chance  might  afford  him,  he  rose,  and  traversed  the 
apartments,  in  the  unacknowledged  hope  which  chance 
alone  could  suggest. 

It  was  easy  to  see  that  he  had  made  his  resting- 
place  in  the  home  of  one  of  the  princes  of  the  land ; 
and  the  splendour  of  all  around  him  far  outshone  the 
barbarous  and  rude  magnificence  of  the  less  civilised 
and  wealthy  Romans.  Here,  lay  the  lute  as  last 
touched — the-  gilded  and  illumined  volume  as  last 
conned ;  there,  were  seats  drawn  familiarly  together,  as 
when  lady  and  gallant  had  interchanged  whispers  last. 

"  And  such,"  thought  Adrian, — "  such  desolation 
may  soon  swallow  up  the  vestige  of  the  unwelcomed 
guest,  as  of  the  vanished  lord !  " 

At  length  he  entered  a  saloon,  in  which  was  a  table 
still  spread  with  wine-flasks,  goblets  of  glass,  and  one 
of  silver,  withered  flowers,  half-mouldy  fruits,  and 
viands.  At  one  side  the  arras,  folding-doors  opened  to 
a  broad  flight  of  stairs,  that  descended  to  a  little  garden 
at  the  back  of  the  house,  in  which  a  fountain  still 
played  sparkling  and  livingly — the  only  thing,  save  the 
stranger,  living  there !  On  the  steps  lay  a  crimson 
mantle,  and  by  it  a  lady's  glove.  The  relics  seemed 
to  speak  to  the  lover's  heart  of  a  lover's  last  wooing 
and  last  farewell.  He  groaned  aloud,  and  feeling  he 
should  have  need  of  all  his  strength,  filled  one  of  the 
goblets  from  a  half-emptied  flask  of  Cyprus  wine.  He 
drained  the  draught — it  revived  him.  "  Now,"  he 
said,  "  once  more  to  my  task ! — I  will  sally  forth," 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES        387 

when  suddenly  he  heard  heavy  steps  along  the  rooms 
he  had  quitted — they  approached — they  entered;  and 
Adrian  beheld  two  huge  and  ill-omened  forms  stalk 
into  the  chamber.  They  were  wrapped  in  black 
homely  draperies ;  their  arms  were  bare,  and  they  wore 
large  shapeless  masks,  which  descended  to  the  breast, 
leaving  only  access  to  sight  and  breath  in  three  small 
and  circular  apertures.  The  Colonna  half  drew  his 
sword,  for  the  forms  and  aspects  of  these  visitors  were 
not  such  as  men  think  to  look  upon  in  safety. 

"  Oh !  "  said  one,  "  the  palace  has  a  new  guest  to- 
day. Fear  us  not,  stranger;  there  is  room, — ay,  and 
wealth  enough  for  all  men  now  in  Florence!  Per 
Bacco !  but  there  is  still  one  goblet  of  silver  left — how 
comes  that  ? "  So  saying,  the  man  seized  the  cup 
which  Adrian  had  just  drained,  and  thrust  it  into  his 
breast.  He  then  turned  to  Adrian,  whose  hand  was 
still  upon  his  hilt,  and  said,  with  a  laugh  which  came 
choked  and  muffled  through  his  vizard — "  Qh,  we  cut 
no  throats,  Signor ;  the  Invisible  spares  us  that  trouble. 
We  are  honest  men,  state  officers,  and  come  but  to  see 
if  the  cart  should  halt  here  to-night." 

"  Ye  are  then " 

"  Becchini ! " 

Adrian's  blood  ran  cold.  The  Becchino  continued 
— "  And  keep  you  this  house  while  you  rest  at  Flor- 
ence, Signor  ?  " 

"  Yes,  if  the  rightful  lord  claim  it  not." 

"  Ha !  ha !  '  Rightful  lord ! '  The  Plague  is  Lord  of 
all  now !  Why,  I  have  known  three  gallant  com- 
panies tenant  this  palace  the  last  week,  and  have  buried 
them  all — all !  It  is  a  pleasant  house  enough,  and 
gives  good  custom.  Are  you  alone  ?  " 

"  At  present,  yes." 


388  RIENZI 

"  Shew  us  where  you  sleep,  that  we  may  know 
where  to  come  for  you.  You  won't  want  us  these 
three  days,  I  see." 

"  Ye  are  pleasant  welcomers !  "  said  Adrian ; — "  but 
listen  to  me.  Can  ye  find  the  living  as  well  as  bury 
the  dead  ?  I  seek  one  in  this  city  who,  if  you  discover 
her,  shall  be  worth  to  you  a  year  of  burials." 

"  No,  no !  that  is  out  of  our  line.  As  well  look  for 
a  dropped  sand  on  the  beach,  as  for  a  living  being 
amongst  closed  houses  and  yawning  vaults ;  but  if  you 
will  pay  the  poor  grave-diggers  beforehand,  I  promise 
you,  you  shall  have  the  first  of  a  new  charnel-house : — 
it  will  be  finished  just  about  your  time." 

"  There !  "  said  Adrian,  flinging  the  wretches  a  few 
pieces  of  gold — "  there !  and  if  you  would  do  me  a 
kinder  service,  leave  me,  at  least  while  living;  or  I 
may  save  you  that  trouble."  And  he  turned  from  the 
room. 

The  Becchino  who  had  been  spokesman  followed 
him. 

"  You  are  generous,  Signer,  stay ;  you  will  want 
fresher  food  than  these  filthy  fragments.  I  will  supply 
thee  of  the  best,  while — while  thou  wantest  it.  And 
hark, — whom  wishest  thou  that  I  should  seek  ?  " 

This  question  arrested  Adrian's  departure.  He  de- 
tailed the  name,  and  all  the  particulars  he  could  sug- 
gest of  Irene ;  and,  with  sickened  heart,  described  the 
hair,  features,  and  stature  of  that  lovely  and  hallowed 
image,  which  might  furnish  a  theme  to  the  poet,  and 
now  gave  a  clue  to  the  grave-digger. 

The  unhallowed  apparition  shook  his  head  when 
Adrian  had  concluded.  "  Full  five  hundred  such  de- 
scriptions did  I  hear  in  the  first  days  of  the  Plague, 
when  there  were  still  such  things  as  mistress  and  lover ; 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES        389 

but  it  is  a  dainty  catalogue,  Signer,  and  it  will  be  a 
pride  to  the  poor  Becchino  to  discover  or  even  to  bury 
so  many  charms !  I  will  do  my  best ;  meanwhile,  I 
can  recommend  you,  if  in  a  hurry,  to  make  the  best 
of  your  time,  to  many  a  pretty  face  and  comely 
shape " 

"  Out,  fiend !  "  muttered  Adrian :  "  fool  to  waste 
time  with  such  as  thou  !  " 

The  laugh  of  the  grave-digger  followed  his  steps. 

All  that  day  did  Adrian  wander  through  the  city, 
but  search  and  questioning  were  alike  unavailing;  all 
whom  he  encountered  and  interrogated  seemed  to  re- 
gard him  as  a  madman,  and  these  were  indeed  of  no 
kind  likely  to  advance  his  object.  Wild  troops  of  dis- 
ordered, drunken  revellers,  processions  of  monks,  or 
here  and  there,  scattered  individuals  gliding  rapidly 
along,  and  shunning  all  approach  or  speech,  made  the 
only  haunters  of  the  dismal  streets,  till  the  sun  sunk, 
lurid  and  yellow,  behind  the  hills,  and  Darkness  closed 
around  the  noiseless  pathway  of  the  Pestilence. 


CHAPTER    III 

THE    FLOWERS   AMIDST   THE   TOMBS 

Adrian  found  that  the  Becchino  had  taken  care  that 
famine  should  not  forestall  the  plague;  the  banquet  of 
the  dead  was  removed,  and  fresh  viands  and  wines  of 
all  kinds, — for  there  was  plenty  then  in  Florence ! — 
spread  the  table.  He  partook  of  the  refreshment, 
though  but  sparingly,  and  shrinking  from  repose  in 
beds  beneath  whose  gorgeous  hangings  Death  had 
been  so  lately  busy,  carefully  closed  door  and  window, 


390  RIENZI 

wrapped  himself  in  his  mantle,  and  found  his  resting- 
place  on  the  cushions  of  the  chamber  in  which  he  had 
supped.  Fatigue  cast  him  into  an  unquiet  slumber, 
from  which  he  was  suddenly  awakened  by  the  roll  of 
a  cart  below,  and  the  jingle  of  bells.  He  listened,  as 
the  cart  proceeded  slowly  from  door  to  door,  and  at 
length  its  sound  died  away  in  the  distance. — He  slept 
no  more  that  night ! 

The  sun  had  not  long  risen  ere  he  renewed  his 
labours;  and  it  was  yet  early  when,  just  as  he  passed 
a  church,  two  ladies  richly  dressed  came  from  the 
porch,  and  seemed  through  their  vizards  to  regard 
the  young  Cavalier  with  earnest  attention.  The  gaze 
arrested  him  also,  when  one  of  the  ladies  said,  "  Fair 
sir,  you  are  over-bold :  you  wear  no  mask ;  neither  do 
you  smell  to  flowers." 

"  Lady,  I  wear  no  mask,  for  I  would  be  seen :  I 
search  these  miserable  places  for  one  in  whose  life  I 
live." 

"  He  is  young,  comely,  evidently  noble,  and  the 
plague  hath  not  touched  him :  he  will  serve  our 
purpose  well,"  whispered  one  of  the  ladies  to  the 
other. 

"  You  echo  my  own  thoughts,"  returned  her  com- 
panion ;  and  then  turning  to  Adrian,  she  said,  "  You 
seek  one  you  are  not  wedded  to,  if  you  seek  so 
fondly?" 

"  It  is  true." 

"  Young  and  fair,  with  dark  hair  and  neck  of  snow ; 
I  will  conduct  you  to  her." 

"  Signora ! " 

"  Follow  us !  " 

"  Know  you  whom  I  am,  and  whom  I  seek  ?  " 

"  Yes." 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES        391 

"  Can  you  in  truth  tell  me  aught  of  Irene?  " 

"  I  can  :  follow  me." 

"To  her?" 

"  Yes,  yes  :  follow  us  !  " 

The  ladies  moved  on  as  if  impatient  of  further  par- 
ley. Amazed,  doubtful,  and  as  if  in  a  dream,  Adrian 
followed  them.  Their  dress,  manner,  and  the  pure 
Tuscan  of  the  one  who  had  addressed  him,  indicated 
them  of  birth  and  station;  but  all  else  was  a  riddle 
which  he  could  not  solve. 

They  arrived  at  one  of  the  bridges,  where  a  litter 
and  a  servant  on  horseback  holding  a  palfrey  by  the 
bridle  were  in  attendance.  The  ladies  entered  the  lit- 
ter, and  she  who  had  before  spoken  bade  Adrian  fol- 
low on  the  palfrey. 

"  But  tell  me "  he  began. 

"  No  questions,  Cavalier,"  said  she  impatiently ; 
"  follow  the  living  in  silence,  or  remain  with  the  dead, 
as  you  list." 

With  that  the  litter  proceeded,  and  Adrian  mounted 
the  palfrey  wonderingly,  and  followed  his  strange  con- 
ductors, who  moved  on  at  a  tolerably  brisk  pace. 
They  crossed  the  bridge,  left  the  river  on  one  side, 
and,  soon  ascending  a  gentle  acclivity,  the  trees  and 
flowers  of  the  country  began  to  succeed  dull  walls  and 
empty  streets.  After  proceeding  thus  somewhat  less 
than  half  and  hour,  they  turned  up  a  green  lane  remote 
from  the  road,  and  came  suddenly  upon  the  porticoes 
of  a  fair  and  stately  palace.  Here  the  ladies  descended 
from  their  litter;  and  Adrian,  who  had  vainly  sought 
to  extract  speech  from  the  attendant,  also  dismounted, 
and  following  them  across  a  spacious  court,  filled  on 
either  side  with  vases  of  flowers  and  orange-trees,  and 
then  through  a  wide  hall  in  the  farther  side  of  the 


392  RIENZI 

quadrangle,  found  himself  in  one  of  the  loveliest  spots 
eye  ever  saw  or  poet  ever  sung.  It  was  a  garden  plot 
of  the  most  emerald  verdure,  bosquets  of  laurel  and  of 
myrtle  opened  on  either  side  into  vistas  half  overhung 
with  clematis  and  rose,  through  whose  arcades  the 
prospect  closed  with  statues  and  gushing  fountains ;  in 
front,  the  lawn  was  bounded  by  rows  of  vases  on  marble 
pedestals  rilled  with  flowers!  and  broad  and  gradual 
flights  of  steps  of  the  whitest  marble  led  from  terrace  to 
terrace,  each  adorned  with  statues  and  fountains,  half- 
way down  a  high  but  softly  sloping  and  verdant  hill. 
Beyond,  spread  in  wide,  various,  and  luxurious  land- 
scape, the  vineyards  and  olive-groves,  the  villas  and 
villages,  of  the  Vale  of  Arno,  intersected  by  the  silver 
river,  while  the  city,  in  all  its  calm,  but  without  its  hor- 
ror, raised  its  roofs  and  spires  to  the  sun.  Birds  of 
every  hue  and  song,  some  free,  some  in  network  of 
golden  wire,  warbled  round ;  and  upon  the  centre  of 
the  sward  reclined  four  ladies  unmasked  and  richly 
dressed,  the  eldest  of  whom  seemed  scarcely  more  than 
twenty ;  and  five  cavaliers,  young  and  handsome, 
whose  jewelled  vests  and  golden  chains  attested  their 
degree.  Wines  and  fruits  were  on  a  low  table  beside ; 
and  musical  instruments,  chess-boards,  and  gammon- 
tables,  lay  scattered  all  about.  So  fair  a  group,  and 
so  graceful  a  scene,  Adrian  never  beheld  but  once, 
and  that  was  in  the  midst  of  the  ghastly  pestilence  of 
Italy! — such  group  and  such  scene  our  closet  in- 
dolence may  yet  revive  in  the  pages  of  the  bright  Boc- 
caccio ! 

On  seeing  Adrian  and  his  companions  approach,  the 
party  rose  instantly ;  and  one  of  the  ladies,  who  wore 
upon  her  head  a  wreath  of  laurel-leaves,  stepping  be- 
fore the  rest,  exclaimed,  "  Well  done,  my  Mariana ! 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES        393 

welcome  back,  my  fair  subjects.  And  you,  sir,  wel- 
come hither." 

The  two  guides  of  the  Colonna  had  by  this  time  re- 
moved their  masks ;  and  the  one  who  had  accosted 
him,  shaking  her  long  and  raven  ringlets  over  a  bright, 
laughing  eye  and  a  cheek  to  whose  native  olive  now 
rose  a  slight  blush,  turned  to  him  ere  he  could  reply 
to  the  welcome  he  had  received. 

"  Signer  Cavalier,"  said  she,  "  you  now  see  to  what 
I  have  decoyed  you.  Own  that  this  is  pleasanter  than 
the  sights  and  sounds  of  the  city  we  have  left.  You 
gaze  on  me  in  surprise.  See,  my  Queen,  how  speech- 
less the  marvel  of  your  court  has  made  our  new  gal- 
lant ;  I  assure  you  he  could  talk  quickly  enough  when 
he  had  only  us  to  confer  with :  nay,  I  was  forced  to 
impose  silence  on  him." 

"  Oh,  then  you  have  not  yet  informed  him  of  the 
custom  and  origin  of  the  court  he  enters  ?  "  quoth  she 
of  the  laurel  wreath. 

"  No,  my  Queen ;  I  thought  all  description  given  in 
such  a  spot  as  our  poor  Florence  now  is  would  fail  of 
its  object.  My  task  is  done,  I  resign  him  to  your 
Grace !  " 

So  saying  the  lady  tripped  lightly  away,  and  began 
coquettishly  sleeking  her  locks  in  the  smooth  mirror 
of  a  marble  basin,  whose  waters  trickled  over  the  mar- 
gin upon  the  grass  below,  ever  and  anon  glancing 
archly  towards  the  stranger,  and  sufficiently  at  hand 
to  overhear  all  that  was  said. 

"  In  the  first  place,  Signer,  permit  us  to  inquire," 
said  the  lady  who  bore  the  appellation  of  Queen,  "  thy 
name,  rank,  and  birth-place." 

"  Madam,"  returned  Adrian,  "  I  came  hither  little 
dreaming  to  answer  questions  respecting  myself;  but 


394  RIENZI 

what  it  pleases  you  to  ask,  it  must  please  me  to  reply 
to.  My  name  is  Adrian  di  Castello,  one  of  the  Roman 
house  of  the  Colonna." 

"  A  noble  column  of  a  noble  house !  "  answered  the 
Queen.  "  For  us,  respecting  whom  your  curiosity 
may  perhaps  be  aroused,  know  that  we  six  ladies  of 
Florence,  deserted  by  or  deprived  of  our  kin  and  pro- 
tectors, formed  the  resolution  to  retire  to  this  palace, 
where,  if  death  comes,  it  comes  stripped  of  half  its 
horrors:  and  as  the  learned  tell  us  that  sadness  en- 
genders the  awful  malady,  so  you  see  us  sworn  foes  to 
sadness.  Six  cavaliers  of  our  acquaintance  agreed  to 
join  us.  We  pass  our  days,  whether  many  or  few,  in 
whatever  diversions  we  can  find  or  invent.  Music  and 
the  dance,  merry  tales  and  lively  songs,  with  such 
slight  change  of  scene  as  from  sward  to  shade,  from 
alley  to  fountain,  fill  up  our  time,  and  prepare  us  for 
peaceful  sleep  and  happy  dreams.  Each  lady  is  by 
turns  Queen  of  our  fairy  court,  as  is  my  lot  this  day. 
One  law  forms  the  code  of  our  constitution — that 
nothing  sad  shall  be  admitted.  We  would  live  as  if 
yonder  city  were  not,  and  as  if  "  (added  the  fair  Queen, 
with  a  slight  sigh)  "  youth,  grace,  and  beauty,  could 
endure  for  ever.  One  of  our  knights  madly  left  us 
for  a  day,  promising  to  return ;  we  have  seen  him  no 
more  :  we  will  not  guess  what  hath  chanced  to  him.  It 
became  necessary  to  fill  up  his  place;  we  drew  lots 
who  should  seek  his  substitute ;  it  fell  upon  the  ladies 
who  have — not,  I  trust,  to  your  displeasure — brought 
you  hither.  Fair  sir,  my  explanation  is  made." 

"Alas,  lovely  Queen,"  said  Adrian,  wrestling  strong- 
ly, but  vainly,  with  the  bitter  disappointment  he  felt — 
"  I  cannot  be  one  of  your  happy  circle ;  I  am  in  my- 
self a  violation  of  your  law.  I  am  filled  with  but  one 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES        395 

sad  and  anxious  thought,  to  which  all  mirth  would 
seem  impiety.  I  am  a  seeker  amongst  the  living  and 
the  dead  for  one  being  of  whose  fate  I  am  uncertain ; 
and  it  was  only  by  the  words  that  fell  from  my  fair  con- 
ductor, that  I  have  been  decoyed  hither  from  my 
mournful  task.  Suffer  me,  gracious  lady,  to  return  to 
Florence." 

The  Queen  looked  in  mute  vexation  towards  the 
dark-eyed  Mariana,  who  returned  the  glance  by  one 
equally  expressive,  and  then  suddenly  stepping  up  to 
Adrian  she  said, — 

"  But,  Signer,  if  I  should  still  keep  my  promise,  if  I 
should  be  able  to  satisfy  thee  of  the  health  and  safety 
of — of  Irene." 

"  Irene !  "  echoed  Adrian  in  surprise,  forgetful  at  the 
moment  that  he  had  before  revealed  the  name  of  her 
he  sought — "  Irene — Irene  di  Gabrini,  sister  of  the 
once  renowned  Rienzi !  " 

"  The  same,"  replied  Mariana,  quickly ;  "  I  knew 
her,  as  I  told  you.  Nay,  Signer,  I  do  not  deceive  thee. 
It  is  true  that  I  cannot  bring  thee  to  her ;  but  better  as 
it  is, — she  went  away  many  days  ago  to  one  of  the 
towns  of  Lombardy,  which,  they  say,  the  Pestilence 
has  not  yet  pierced.  Now,  noble  sir,  is  not  your  heart 
lightened  ?  and  will  you  so  soon  be  a  deserter  from  the 
Court  of  Loveliness ;  and  perhaps,"  she  added,  with 
a  soft  look  from  her  large  dark  eyes,  "  of  Love  ?  " 

"  Dare  I,  in  truth,  believe  you,  Lady?  "  said  Adrian, 
all  delighted,  yet  still  half  doubting. 

"  Would  I  deceive  a  true  lover,  as  methinks  you 
are?  Be  assured.  Nay,  Queen,  receive  your  sub- 
ject." 

The  Queen  extended  her  hand  to  Adrian,  and  led 
him  to  the  group  that  still  stood  on  the  grass  at  a  little 


396  RIENZI 

distance.  They  welcomed  him  as  a  brother,  and  soon 
forgave  his  abstracted  courtesies,  in  compliment  to  his 
good  mien  and  illustrious  name. 

The  Queen  clapped  her  hands,  and  the  party  again 
ranged  themselves  on  the  sward.  Each  lady  beside 
each  gallant.  "  You,  Mariana,  if  not  fatigued,"  said 
the  Queen,  "  shall  take  the  lute  and  silence  these  noisy 
grasshoppers,  which  chirp  about  us  with  as  much  pre- 
tension as  if  they  were  nightingales.  Sing,  sweet  sub- 
jects, sing ;  and  let  it  be  the  song  our  dear  friend,  Sig- 
nor  Visdomini,*  made  for  a  kind  of  inaugural  anthem 
to  such  as  we  admitted  to  our  court." 

Mariana,  who  had  reclined  herself  by  the  side  of 
Adrian,  took  up  the  lute,  and,  after  a  short  prelude, 
sung  the  words  thus  imperfectly  translated  : — 

THE  SONG  OF  THE  FLORENTINE  LADY 

Enjoy  the  more  the  smiles  of  noon 

If  doubtful  be  the  morrow; 
And  know  the  Fort  of  Life  is  soon 

Betray'd  to  Death  by  Sorrow! 

Death  claims  us  all — then,  Grief,  away! 

We'll  own  no  meaner  master; 
The  clouds  that  darken  round  the  day 

But  bring  the  night  the  faster. 

Love — feast — be  merry  while  on  earth, 
Such,  Grave,  should  be  thy  moral! 

Ev'n  Death  himself  is  friends  with  Mirth, 
And  veils  the  tomb  with  laurel. t 

*  I  know  not  if  this  be  the  same  Visdomini  who,  three 
years  afterwards,  with  one  of  the  Medici,  conducted  so  gallant 
a  reinforcement  to  Scarperia,  then  besieged  by  Visconti 
d'Oleggio. 

t  At  that  time,  in  Italy,  the  laurel  was  frequently  planted 
over  the  dead. 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES        397 

_  While  gazing  on  the  eyes  I  love, 

New  life  to  mine  is  given — 
If  joy  the  lot  of  saints  above, 
Joy  fits  us  best  for  Heaven. 

To  this  song,  which  was  much  applauded,  succeeded 
those  light  and  witty  tales  in  which  the  Italian  novelists 
furnished  Voltaire  and  Marmontel  with  a  model — each, 
in  his  or  her  turn,  taking  up  the  discourse,  and  with 
an  equal  dexterity  avoiding  every  lugubrious  image 
or  mournful  reflection  that  might  remind  those  grace- 
ful idlers  of  the  vicinity  of  Death.  At  any  other  time 
the  temper  and  accomplishments  of  the  young  Lord 
di  Castello  would  have  fitted  him  to  enjoy  and  to  shine 
in  that  Arcadian  court.  But  now  he  in  vain  sought 
to  dispel  the  gloom  from  his  brow,  and  the  anxious 
thought  from  his  heart.  He  revolved  the  intelligence 
he  had  received,  wondered,  guessed,  hoped,  and 
dreaded  still ;  and  if  for  a  moment  his  mind  returned 
to  the  scene  about  him,  his  nature  too  truly  poetical 
for  the  false  sentiment  of  the  place,  asked  itself  in  what, 
save  the  polished  exterior  and  the  graceful  circum- 
stance, the  mirth  that  he  now  so  reluctantly  witnessed 
differed  from  the  brutal  revels  in  the  convent  of  Santa 
Maria — each  alike  in  its  motive,  though  so  differing  in 
the  manner — equally  callous  and  equally  selfishj  coin- 
ing horror  into  enjoyment.  The  fair  Mariana,  whose 
partner  had  been  reft  from  her,  as  the  Queen  had  re- 
lated, was  in  no  mind  to  lose  the  new  one  she  had 
gained.  She  pressed  upon  him  from  time  to  time  the 
wine-flask  and  the  fruits ;  and  in  those  unmeaning 
courtesies  her  hand  gently  lingered  upon  his.  At 
length,  the  hour  arrived  when  the  companions  retired 
to  the  Palace,  during  the  fiercer  heats  of  noon — to 
come  forth  again  in  the  declining  sun,  to  sup  by  the 


398  RIENZI 

side  of  the  fountain,  to  dance,  to  sing,  and  to  make 
merry  by  torchlight  and  the  stars  till  the  hour  of  rest 
But  Adrian,  not  willing  to  continue  the  entertainment, 
no  sooner  found  himself  in  the  apartment  to  which  he 
was  conducted,  than  he  resolved  to  effect  a  silent  es- 
cape, as  under  all  circumstances  the  shortest,  and  not 
perhaps  the  least  courteous,  farewell  left  to  him.  Ac- 
cordingly, when  all  seemed  quiet  and  hushed  in  the 
repose  common  to  the  inhabitants  of  the  South  dur- 
ing that  hour,  he  left  his  apartment,  descended  the 
stairs,  passed  the  outer  court,  and  was  already  at  the 
gate,  when  he  heard  himself  called  by  a  voice  that 
spoke  vexation  and  alarm.  He  turned  to  behold 
Mariana. 

"  Why,  how  now,  Signer  di  Castello,  is  our  com- 
pany so  unpleasing,  is  our  music  so  jarring,  or  are  our 
brows  so  wrinkled,  that  you  should  fly  as  the  traveller 
flies  from  the  witches  he  surprises  at  Benevento? 
Nay,  you  cannot  mean  to  leave  us  yet  ?  " 

"  Fair  dame,"  returned  the  cavalier,  somewhat  dis- 
concerted, "  it  is  in  vain  that  I  seek  to  rally  my  mourn- 
ful spirits,  or  to  fit  myself  for  the  court  to  which 
nothing  sad  should  come.  Your  laws  hang  about  me 
like  a  culprit — better  timely  flight  than  harsh  expul- 
sion." 

As  he  spoke  he  moved  on,  and  would  have  passed 
the  gate,  -but  Mariana  caught  his  arm. 

"  Nay,"  said  she,  softly ;  "  are  there  no  eyes  of  dark 
light,  and  no  neck  of  wintry  snow,  that  can  compen- 
sate to  thee  for  the  absent  one  ?  Tarry  and  forget,  as 
doubtless  in  absence  even  thou  art  forgotten !  " 

"  Lady,"  answered  Adrian,  with  great  gravity,  not 
unmixed  with  an  ill-suppressed  disdain,  "  I  have  not 
sojourned  long  enough  amidst  the  sights  and  sounds 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES        399 

of  woe,  to  blunt  my  heart  and  spirit  into  callousness 
to  all  around.  Enjoy,  if  thou  canst,  and  gather  the 
rank  roses  of  the  sepulchre;  but  to  me,  haunted  still 
by  funeral  images,  Beauty  fails  to  bring  delight,  and 
Love — even  holy  love — seems  darkened  by  the  Shadow 
of  Death.  Pardon  me,  and  farewell." 

"  Go,  then,"  said  the  Florentine,  stung  and  enraged 
at  his  coldness ;  "  go  and  find  your  mistress  amidst 
the  associations  on  which  it  pleases  your  philosophy 
to  dwell.  I  did  but  deceive  thee,  blind  fool !  as  I  had 
hoped  for  thine  own  good,  when  I  told  thee  Irene — 
(was  that  her  name?) — was  gone  from  Florence.  Of 
her  I  know  nought,  and  heard  nought,  save  from 
thee.  Go  back  and  search  the  vault,  and  see  whether 
thou  lovest  her  still !  " 


CHAPTER    IV 

WE   OBTAIN   WHAT   WE    SEEK   AND    KNOW    IT    NOT 

In  the  fiercest  heat  of  the  day,  and  on  foot,  Adrian 
returned  to  Florence.  As  he  approached  the  city,  all 
that  festive  and  gallant  scene  he  had  quitted  seemed 
to  him  like  a  dream ;  a  vision  of  the  gardens  and 
bowers  of  an  enchantress,  from  which  he  woke  ab- 
ruptly as  a  criminal  may  wake  on  the  morning  of  his 
doom  to  see  the  scaffold  and  the  deathsman  ; — so  much 
did  each  silent  and  lonely  step  into  the  funeral  city 
bring  back  his  bewildered  thoughts  at  once  to  life  and 
to  death.  The  parting  words  of  Mariana  sounded  like 
a  knell  at  his  heart.  And  now  as  he  passed  on — the 
heat  of  the  day,  the  lurid  atmosphere,  long  fatigue, 
alternate  exhaustion  and  excitement,  combining  with 


400  RIENZI 

the  sickness  of  disappointment,  the  fretting  conscious- 
ness of  precious  moments  irretrievably  lost,  and  his 
utter  despair  of  forming  any  systematic  mode  of  search 
— fever  began  rapidly  to  burn  through  his  veins.  His 
temples  felt  oppressed  as  with  the  weight  of  a  moun- 
tain ;  his  lips  parched  with  intolerable  thirst ;  his 
strength  seemed  suddenly  to  desert  him ;  and  it  was 
with  pain  and  labour  that  he  dragged  one  languid  limb 
after  the  other. 

"  I  feel  it,"  thought  he,  with  the  loathing  nausea  and 
shivering  dread  with  which  nature  struggles  ever 
against  death ;  "  I  feel  it  upon  me — the  Devouring 
and  the  Viewless — I  shall  perish,  and  without  saving 
her ;  nor  shall  even  one  grave  contain  us !  " 

But  these  thoughts  served  rapidly  to  augment  the 
disease  which  began  to  prey  upon  him ;  and  ere  he 
reached  the  interior  of  the  city,  even  thought  itself 
forsook  him.  The  images  of  men  and  houses  grew  in- 
distinct and  shadowy  before  his  eyes;  the  burning 
pavement  became  unsteady  and  reeling  beneath  his 
feet ;  delirium  gathered  over  him,  and  he  went  on  his 
way  muttering  broken  and  incoherent  words ;  the  few 
who  met  fled  from  him  in  dismay.  Even  the  monks, 
still  continuing  their  solemn  and  sad  processions, 
passed  with  a  murmured  bcne  vobis  to  the  other  side 
from  that  on  which  his  steps  swerved  and  faltered. 
And  from  a  booth  at  the  corner  of  a  street,  four  Bec- 
chini,  drinking  together,  fixed  upon  him  from  their 
black  masks  the  gaze  that  vultures  fix  upon  some 
dying  wanderer  of  the  desert.  Still  he  crept  on, 
stretching  out  his  arms  like  a  man  in  the  dark,  and 
seeking  with  the  vague  sense  that  yet  struggled 
against  the  gathering  delirium,  to  find  out  the  mansion 
in  which  he  had  fixed  his  home ;  though  many  as  fair 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES        401 

to  live,  and  as  meet  to  die  in,  stood  with  open  portals 
before  and  beside  his  path. 

"  Irene,  Irene !  "  he  cried,  sometimes  in  a  muttered 
and  low  tone,  sometimes  in  a  wild  and  piercing  shriek, 
"  where  art  thou  ?  Where  ?  I  come  to  snatch  thee 
from  them ;  they  shall  not  have  thee,  the  foul  and  ugly 
fiends !  Pah !  how  the  air  smells  of  dead  flesh  !  Irene, 
Irene !  we  will  away  to  mine  own  palace  and  the  heav- 
enly lake — Irene  !  " 

While  thus  benighted,  and  thus  exclaiming,  two 
females  suddenly  emerged  from  a  neighbouring  house, 
masked  and  mantled. 

"  Vain  wisdom !  "  said  the  taller  and  slighter  of  the 
two,  whose  mantle,  it  is  here  necessary  to  observe,  was 
of  a  deep  blue,  richly  broidered  with  silver,  of  a  shape 
and  a  colour  not  common  in  Florence,  but  usual  in 
Rome,  where  the  dress  of  ladies  of  the  higher  rank 
was  singularly  bright  in  hue  and  ample  in  fold — thus 
differing  from  the  simpler  and  more  slender  draperies 
of  the  Tuscan  fashion — "  Vain  wisdom,  to  fly  a  relent- 
less and  certain  doom  !  " 

"  Why,  thou  wouldst  not  have  us  hold  the  same 
home  with  three  of  the  dead  in  the  next  chamber — 
strangers  too  to  us — when  Florence  has  so  many  empty 
halls?  Trust  me,  we  shall  not  walk  far  ere  we  suit 
ourselves  with  a  safer  lodgment." 

"  Hitherto,  indeed,  we  have  been  miraculously  pre- 
served," sighed  the  other,  whose  voice  and  shape  were 
those  of  extreme  youth ;  "  yet  would  that  we  knew 
where  to  fly — what  mount,  what  wood,  what  cavern, 
held  my  brother  and  his  faithful  Nina !  I  am  sick  with 
horrors !  " 

"  Irene,  Irene !  Well  then,  if  thou  art  at  Milan  or 
some  Lombard  town,  why  do  I  linger  here  ?  To  horse, 
26 


402  RIENZI 

to  horse  !  Oh,  no  !  no ! — not  the  horse  with  the  bells ! 
not  the  death  cart." 

With  a  cry,  a  shriek,  louder  than  the  loudest  of  the 
sick  man's,  broke  that  young  female  away  from  her 
companion.  It  seemed  as  if  a  single  step  took  her  to 
the  side  of  Adrian.  She  caught  his  arm — she  looked 
in  his  face — she  met  his  unconscious  eyes  bright  with 
a  fearful  fire.  "  It  has  seized  him !  "  (she  then  said  in 
a  deep  but  calmer  tone) — "  the  Plague  !  " 

"  Away,  away !  are  you  mad  !  "  cried  her  companion  ; 
"  hence,  hence, — touch  me  not  now  thou  hast  touched 
him — go ! — here  we  part !  " 

"  Help  me  to  bear  him  somewhere ;  see,  he  faints, 
he  droops,  he  falls ! — help  me,  dear  Signora,  for  pity, 
for  the  love  of  God !  " 

But,  wholly  possessed  by  the  selfish  fear  which  over- 
came all  humanity  in  that  miserable  time,  the  elder 
woman,  though  naturally  kind,  pitiful,  and  benevolent, 
fled  rapidly  away,  and  soon  vanished.  Thus  left  alone 
with  Adrian,  who  had  now,  in  the  fierceness  of  the 
fever  that  preyed  within  him,  fallen  on  the  ground,  the 
strength  and  nerve  of  that  young  girl  did  not  forsake 
her.  She  tore  off  the  heavy  mantle  which  encum- 
bered her  arms,  and  cast  it  from  her ;  and  then,  lifting 
up  the  face  of  her  lover — for  who  but  Irene  was  that 
weak  woman,  thus  shrinking  not  from  the  contagion 
of  death  ? — she  supported  him  on  her  breast,  and  called 
aloud  and  again  for  help.  At  length  the  Becchini,  in 
the  booth  before  noticed,  (hardened  in  their  profession, 
and  who,  thus  hardened,  better  than  the  most  cau- 
tious, escaped  the  pestilence,)  lazily  approached — 
"  Quicker,  quicker,  for  Christ's  love !  "  said  Irene.  "  I 
have  much  gold :  I  will  reward  you  well :  help  me  to 
bear  him  under  the  nearest  roof." 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES        403 

"  Leave  him  to  us,  young  lady :  we  have  had  our 
eye  upon  him,"  said  one  of  the  grave-diggers.  "  We'll 
do  our  duty  by  him,  first  and  last." 

"  No,  no !  touch  not  his  head — that  is  my  care. 
There,  I  will  help  you ;  so, — now  then, — but  be 
gentle !  " 

Assisted  by  these  portentous  officers,  Irene,  who 
would  not  release  her  hold,  but  seemed  to  watch  over 
the  beloved  eyes  and  lips  (set  and  closed  as  they  were), 
as  if  to  look  back  the  soul  from  parting,  bore  Adrian 
into  a  neighbouring  house,  and  laid  him  on  a  bed ; 
from  which  Irene  (preserving  as  only  women  do,  in 
such  times,  the  presence  of  mind  and  vigilant  prov- 
idence which  make  so  sublime  a  contrast  with  their 
keen  susceptibilities)  caused  them  first  to  cast  off  the 
draperies  and  clothing,  which  might  retain  additional 
infection.  She  then  despatched  them  for  new  furni- 
ture, and  for  whatsoever  leech  money  might  yet  bribe 
to  a  duty,  now  chiefly  abandoned  to  those  heroic 
Brotherhoods  who,  however  vilified  in  modern  judg- 
ment by  the  crimes  of  some  unworthy  members,  were 
yet,  in  the  dark  times,  the  best,  the  bravest,  and  the 
holiest  agents,  to  whom  God  ever  delegated  the  power 
to  resist  the  oppressor — to  feed  the  hungry — to  minis- 
ter to  woe ;  and  who,  alone,  amidst  that  fiery  Pes- 
tilence (loosed,  as  it  were,  a  demon  from  the  abyss,  to 
shiver  into  atoms  all  that  binds  the  world  to  Virtue  and 
to  Law),  seemed  to  awaken,  as  by  the  sound  of  an 
angel's  trumpet,  to  that  noblest  Chivalry  of  the  Cross 
— whose  faith  is  the  scorn  of  self — whose  hope  is  be- 
yond the  Lazar-house — whose  feet,  already  winged  for 
immortality,  trample,  with  a  conqueror's  march,  upon 
the  graves  of  Death ! 

While  this  the  ministry  and  the  office  of  love — along 


404  RIENZI 

that  street  in  which  Adrian  and  Irene  had  met  at  last — 
came  singing,  reeling,  roaring,  the  dissolute  and 
abandoned  crew  who  had  fixed  their  quarters  in  the 
Convent  of  Santa  Maria  de'  Pazzi,  their  bravo  chief  at 
their  head,  and  a  nun  (no  longer  in  nun's  garments) 
upon  either  arm.  "  A  health  to  the  Plague !  "  shouted 
the  ruffian :  "  A  health  to  the  Plague ! "  echoed  his 
frantic  Bacchanals. 

"  A  health  to  the  Plague,  may  she  ever,  as  now, 
Loose  the  rogue  from  his  chain,  and  the  nun  from  her  vow; 
To  the  gaoler  a  sword — to  the  captive  a  key, 
Hurrah  for  Earth's  Curse!  'tis  a  blessing  to  me." 

"  Holla !  "  cried  the  chief,  stopping ;  "  here,  Mar- 
gherita ;  here's  a  brave  cloak  for  thee,  my  girl :  silver 
enow  on  it  to  fill  thy  purse,  if  it  ever  grow  empty ; 
which  it  may,  if  ever  the  Plague  grow  slack." 

"  Nay,"  said  the  girl,  who,  amidst  all  the  havoc  of 
debauch,  retained  much  of  youth  and  beauty  in  her 
form  and  face,  "  nay,  Guidotto ;  perhaps  it  has  infec- 
tion." 

"  Pooh,  child,  silver  never  infects.  Clap  it  on,  clap 
it  on.  Besides,  fate  is  fate,  and  when  it  is  thine  hour 
there  will  be  other  means  besides  the  gavocciolo" 

So  saying,  he  seized  the  mantle,  threw  it  roughly 
over  her  shoulders,  and  dragged  her  on  as  before,  half 
pleased  with  the  finery,  half  frightened  with  the 
danger ;  while  gradually  died  away,  along  the  lurid  air 
and  the  mournful  streets,  the  chant  of  that  most  mis- 
erable mirth. 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES       405 


CHAPTER   V 

THE    ERROR 

For  three  days,  the  fatal  three  days,  did  Adrian  re- 
main bereft  of  strength  and  sense.  But  he  was  not 
smitten  by  the  scourge  which  his  devoted  and  gen- 
erous nurse  had  anticipated.  It  'was  a  fierce  and 
dangerous  fever,  brought  on  by  the  great  fatigue,  rest- 
lessness, and  terrible  agitation  he  had  undergone. 

No  professional  mediciner  could  be  found  to  attend 
him ;  but  a  good  friar,  better  perhaps  skilled  in  the 
healing  art  than  many  who  claimed  its  monopoly,  vis- 
ited him  daily.  And  in  the  long  and  frequent  absences 
to  which  his  other  and  numerous  duties  compelled 
the  monk,  there  was  one  ever  at  hand  to  smooth  the 
pillow,  to  wipe  the  brow,  to  listen  to  the  moan,  to 
watch  the  sleep.  And  even  in  that  dismal  office,  when, 
in  the  frenzy  of  the  sufferer,  her  name,  coupled  with 
terms  of  passionate  endearment,  broke  from  his  lips, 
a  thrill  of  strange  pleasure  crossed  the  heart  of  the  be- 
trothed, which  she  chid  as  if  it  were  a  crime.  But  even 
the  most  unearthly  love  is  selfish  in  the  rapture  of 
being  loved !  Words  cannot  tell,  heart  cannot  divine, 
the  mingled  emotions  that  broke  over  her  when,  in 
some  of  those  incoherent  ravings,  she  dimly  under- 
stood that  for  her  the  city  had  been  sought,  the  death 
dared,  the  danger  incurred.  And  as  then  bending 
passionately  to  kiss  that  burning  brow,  her  tears  fell 
fast  over  the  idol  of  her  youth,  the  fountains  from 
which  they  gushed  were  those,  fathomless  and  count- 
less, which  a  life  could  not  weep  away.  Not  an  im- 
pulse of  the  human  and  the  woman  heart  that  was  not 


406  RIENZI 

stirred ;  the  adoring  gratitude,  the  meek  wonder  thus 
to  be  loved,  while  deeming  it  so  simple  a  merit  thus  to 
love ; — as  if  all  sacrifice  in  her  were  a  thing  of  course, 
— to  her,  a  virtue  nature  could  not  paragon,  worlds 
could  not  repay !  And  there  he  lay,  the  victim  to  his 
own  fearless  faith,  helpless — dependent  upon  her — a 
thing  between  life  and  death,  to  thank,  to  serve — to  be 
proud  of,  yet  protect,  to  compassionate,  yet  revere — 
the  saver,  to  be  saved !  Never  seemed  one  object  to 
demand  at  once  from  a  single  heart  so  many  and  so 
profound  emotions;  the  romantic  enthusiasm  of  the 
girl — the  fond  idolatry  of  the  bride — the  watchful  prov- 
idence of  the  mother  over  her  child. 

And  strange  to  say,  with  all  the  excitement  of  that 
lonely  watch,  scarcely  stirring  from  his  side,  taking 
food  only  that  her  strength  might  not  fail  her, — unable 
to  close  her  eyes, — though,  from  the  same  cause,  she 
would  fain  have  taken  rest,  when  slumber  fell  upon 
her  charge — with  all  such  wear  and  tear  of  frame  and 
heart,  she  seemed  wonderfully  supported.  And  the 
holy  man  marvelled,  in  each  visit,  to  see  the  cheek  of 
the  nurse  still  fresh,  and  her  eye  still  bright.  In  her 
own  superstition  she  thought  and  felt  that  Heaven 
gifted  her  with  a  preternatural  power  to  be  true  to  so 
sacred  a  charge ;  and  in  this  fancy  she  did  not  wholly 
err : — for  Heaven  did  gift  her  with  that  diviner  power, 
when  it  planted  in  so  soft  a  heart  the  enduring  might 
and  energy  of  Affection !  The  friar  had  visited  the 
sick  man  late  on  the  third  night,  and  administered 
to  him  a  strong  sedative.  "  This  night,"  said  he  to 
Irene,  "  will  be  the  crisis :  should  he  awaken  as  I 
trust  he  may,  with  a  returning  consciousness  and  a 
calm  pulse,  he  will  live;  if  not,  young  daughter,  pre- 
pare for  the  worst.  But  should  you  note  any  turn 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES        407 

in  the  disease,  that  may  excite  alarm,  or  require  my 
attendance,  this  scroll  will  inform  you  where  I  am, 
if  God  spare  me  still,  at  each  hour  of  the  night  and 
morning." 

The  monk  retired,  and  Irene  resumed  her  watch. 

The  sleep  of  Adrian  was  at  first  broken  and  inter- 
rupted— his  features,  his  exclamations,  his  gestures,  all 
evinced  great  agony,  whether  mental  or  bodily :  it 
seemed,  as  perhaps  it  was,  a  fierce  and  doubtful  strug- 
gle between  life  and  death  for  the  conquest  of  the 
sleeper.  Patient,  silent,  breathing  but  by  long-drawn 
gasps,  Irene  sate  at  the  bed-head.  The  lamp  was  re- 
moved to  the  farther  end  of  the  chamber,  and  its  ray, 
shaded  by  the  draperies,  did  not  suffice  to  give  to  her 
gaze  more  than  the  outline  of  the  countenance  she 
watched.  In  that  awful  suspense,  all  the  thoughts  that 
hitherto  had  stirred  her  mind  lay  hushed  and  mute. 
She  was  only  sensible  to  that  unutterable  fear  which 
few  of  us  have  been  happy  enough  not  to  know.  That 
crushing  weight  under  which  we  can  scarcely  breathe 
or  move,  the  avalanche  over  us,  freezing  and  sus- 
pended, which  we  cannot  escape  from,  beneath  which, 
every  moment,  we  may  be  buried  and  overwhelmed. 
The  whole  destiny  of  life  was  in  the  chances  of  that 
single  night !  It  was  just  as  Adrian  at  last  seemed  to 
glide  into  a  deeper  and  serener  slumber,  that  the  bells 
of  the  death-cart  broke  with  their  boding  knell  the 
palpable  silence  of  the  streets.  Now  hushed,  now  re- 
vived, as  the  cart  stopped  for  its  gloomy  passengers, 
and  coming  nearer  and  nearer  after  every  pause.  At 
length  she  heard  the  heavy  wheels  stop  under  the  very 
casement,  and  a  voice  deep  and  muffled  calling  aloud, 
"  Bring  out  the  dead !  "  She  rose,  and  with  a  noise- 
less step,  passed  to  secure  the  door,  when  the  dull 


408  RIENZI 

lamp  gleamed  upon  the  dark  and  shrouded  forms  of 
the  Becchini. 

"  You  have  not  marked  the  door,  nor  set  out  the 
body,"  said  one  gruffly;  "but  this  is  the  third  night! 
He  is  ready  for  us." 

"  Hush,  he  sleeps — away,  quick,  it  is  not  the  Plague 
that  seized  him." 

"  Not  the  Plague  ?  "  growled  the  Becchino  in  a  dis- 
appointed tone ;  "  I  thought  no  other  illness  dare  en- 
croach upon  the  rights  of  the  gavocciolo ! " 

"  Go — here's  money ;  leave  us." 

And  the  grisly  carrier  sullenly  withdrew.  The  cart 
moved  on,  the  bell  renewed  its  summons,  till  slowly 
and  faintly  the  dreadful  larum  died  in  the  distance. 

Shading  the  lamp  with  her  hand,  Irene  stole  to  the 
bed  side,  fearful  that  the  sound  and  the  intrusion  had 
disturbed  the  slumberer.  But  his  face  was  still  locked, 
as  in  a  vice,  with  that  iron  sleep.  He  stirred  not — the 
breath  scarcely  passed  his  lips — she  felt  his  pulse,  as 
the  wan  hand  lay  on  the  coverlid — there  was  a  slight 
beat — she  was  contented — removed  the  light,  and,  re- 
tiring to  a  corner  of  the  room,  placed  the  little  cross 
suspended  round  her  neck  upon  the  table,  and  prayed, 
in  her  intense  suffering,  to  Him  who  had  known  death, 
and  who — Son  of  Heaven  though  he  was,  and  Sov- 
ereign of  the  Seraphim — had  also  prayed,  in  his  earthly 
travail,  that  the  cup  might  pass  away. 

The  Morning  broke,  not,  as  in  the  North,  slowly 
and  through  shadow,  but  with  the  sudden  glory  with 
which  in  those  climates  Day  leaps  upon  earth — like  a 
giant  from  his  sleep.  A  sudden  smile — a  burnished 
glow — and  night  had  vanished.  Adrian  still  slept ; 
not  a  muscle  seemed  to  have  stirred:  the  sleep  was 
even  heavier  than  before ;  the  silence  became  a  burthen 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES        409 

upon  the  air.  Now,  in  that  exceeding  torpor  so  like 
unto  death,  the  solitary  watcher  became  alarmed  and 
terrified.  Time  passed — morning  glided  to  noon — 
still  not  a  sound  nor  motion.  The  sun  was  midway 
in  heaven — the  Friar  came  not.  And  now  again 
touching  Adrian's  pulse,  she  felt  no  flutter — she  gazed 
on  him,  appalled  and  confounded  ;  surely  nought  living 
could  be  so  still  and  pale.  "  Was  it  indeed  sleep, 

might  it  not  be "  She  turned  away  sick  and 

frozen ;  her  tongue  clove  to  her  lips.  Why  did  the 
father  tarry  ? — she  would  go  to  him — she  would  learn 
the  worst — she  could  forbear  no  longer.  She  glanced 
over  the  scroll  the  Monk  had  left  her :  "  From  sun- 
rise," it  said,  "  I  shall  be  at  the  Convent  of  the  Domin- 
icans. Death  has  stricken  many  of  the  brethren." 
The  Convent  was  at  some  distance,  but  she  knew  the 
spot,  and  fear  would  wing  her  steps.  She  gave  one 
wistful  look  at  the  sleeper  and  rushed  from  the  house. 
"  I  shall  see  thee  again  presently,"  she  murmured. 
Alas!  what  hope  can  calculate  beyond  the  moment? 
And  who  shall  claim  the  tenure  of  "  The  Again?  " 

It  was  not  many  minutes  after  Irene  had  left  the 
room,  ere,  with  a  long  sigh,  Adrian  opened  his  eyes — 
an  altered  and  another  man ;  the  fever  was  gone,  the 
reviving  pulse  beat  low  indeed,  but  calm.  His  mind 
was  once  more  master  of  his  body,  and,  though  weak 
and  feeble,  the  danger  was  past,  and  life  and  intellect 
regained. 

"  I  have  slept  long,"  he  muttered ;  "  and  oh,  such 
dreams !  And  methought  I  saw  Irene,  but  could  not 
speak  to  her,  and  while  I  attempted  to  grasp  her,  her 
face  changed,  her  form  dilated,  and  I  was  in  the  clutch 
of  the  foul  grave-digger.  It  is  late — the  sun  is  high — 
I  must  be  up  and  stirring.  Irene  is  in  Lombardy. 


410  RIENZI 

No,  no ;  that  was  a  lie,  a  wicked  lie ;  she  is  at  Florence, 
I  must  renew  my  search." 

As  this  duty  came  to  his  remembrance,  he  rose  from 
the  bed — he  was  amazed  at  his  own  debility :  at  first 
he  could  not  stand  without  support  from  the  wall ;  by 
degrees,  however,  he  so  far  regained  the  mastery  of 
his  limbs  as  to  walk,  though  with  effort  and  pain.  A 
ravening  hunger  preyed  upon  him,  he  found  some 
scanty  and  light  food  in  the  chamber,  which  he  de- 
voured eagerly.  And  with  scarce  less  eagerness  laved 
his  enfeebled  form  and  haggard  face  with  the  water 
that  stood  at  hand.  He  now  felt  refreshed  and  invig- 
orated, and  began  to  indue  his  garments,  which  he 
found  thrown  on  a  heap  beside  the  bed.  He  gazed 
with  surprise  and  a  kind  of  self-compassion  upon  his 
emaciated  hands  and  shrunken  limbs,  and  began  now 
to  comprehend  that  he  must  have  had  some  severe  but 
unconscious  illness.  "  Alone,  too,"  thought  he  ;  "  no 
one  near  to  tend  me !  Nature  my  only  nurse !  But 
alas!  alas!  how  long  a  time  may  thus  have  been 

wasted,  and  my  adored  Irene  quick,  quick,  not 

a  moment  more  will  I  lose." 

He  soon  found  himself  in  the  open  street;  the  air 
revived  him;  and  that  morning  had  sprung  up  the 
blessed  breeze,  the  first  known  for  weeks.  He  wan- 
dered on  very  slowly  and  feebly  till  he  came  to  a  broad 
square,  from  which,  in  the  vista,  might  be  seen  one 
of  the  principal  gates  of  Florence,  and  the  fig-trees 
and  olive-groves  beyond.  It  was  then  that  a  Pilgrim 
of  tall  stature  approached  towards  him  as  from  the 
gate ;  his  hood  was  thrown  back,  and  gave  to  view  a 
countenance  of  great  but  sad  command ;  a  face,  in 
whose  high  features,  massive  brow,  and  proud,  un- 
shrinking gaze,  shaded  by  an  expression  of  melan- 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES        411 

choly  more  stern  than  soft,  Nature  seemed  to  have 
written  majesty,  and  Fate  disaster.  As  in  that  silent 
and  dreary  place,  these  two,  the  only  tenants  of  the 
street,  now  encountered,  Adrian  stopped  abruptly,  and 
said  in  a  startled  and  doubting  voice :  "  Do  I  dream 
still,  or  do  I  behold  Rienzi?  " 

The  Pilgrim  paused  also,  as  he  heard  the  name,  and 
gazing  long  on  the  attenuated  features  of  the  young 
lord,  said :  "  I  am  he  that  was  Rienzi !  and  you,  pale 
shadow,  is  it  in  this  grave  of  Italy  that  I  meet  with 
the  gay  and  high  Colonna?  Alas,  young  friend,"  he 
added,  in  a  more  relaxed  and  kindly  voice,  "  hath  the 
Plague  not  spared  the  flower  of  the  Roman  nobles? 
Come,  I,  the  cruel  and  the  harsh  Tribune,  /  will  be  thy 
nurse :  he  who  might  have  been  my  brother,  shall  yet 
claim  from  me  a  brother's  care." 

With  these  words,  he  wound  his  arm  tenderly  round 
Adrian ;  and  the  young  noble,  touched  by  his  compas- 
sion, and  agitated  by  the  surprise,  leaned  upon  Rienzi's 
breast  in  silence. 

"  Poor  youth,"  resumed  the  Tribune,  for  so,  since 
rather  fallen  than  deposed,  he  may  yet  be  called ;  "  I 
ever  loved  the  young,  (my  brother  died  young ;)  and 
you  more  than  most.  What  fatality  brought  thee 
hither?" 

"  Irene  !  "  replied  Adrian,  falteringly. 

"  Is  it  so,  really  ?  Art  thou  a  Colonna,  and  yet  prize 
the  fallen?  The  same  duty  has  brought  me  also  to 
the  city  of  Death.  From  the  farthest  south — over  the 
mountains  of  the  robber — through  the  fastnesses  of 
my  foes— through  towns  in  which  the  herald  pro- 
claimed in  my  ear  the  price  of  my  head — I  have  passed 
hither,  on  foot  and  alone,  safe  under  the  wings  of  the 
Almighty  One.  Young  man,  thou  shouldst  have  left 


412  RIENZI 

this  task  to  one  who  bears  a  wizard's  life,  and  whom 
Heaven  and  Earth  yet  reserve  for  an  appointed  end !  " 

The  Tribune  said  this  in  a  deep  and  inward  voice ; 
and  in  his  raised  eye  and  solemn  brow  might  be  seen 
how  much  his  reverses  had  deepened  his  fanaticism, 
and  added  even  to  the  sanguineness  of  his  hopes. 

"  But,"  asked  Adrian,  withdrawing  gently  from 
Rienzi's  arm,  "  thou  knowest,  then,  where  Irene  is 
to  be  found ;  let  us  go  together.  Lose  not  a  moment 
in  this  talk ;  time  is  of  inestimable  value,  and  a  moment 
in  this  city  is  often  but  the  border  to  eternity." 

"  Right,"  said  Rienzi,  awakening  to  his  object. 
"  But  fear  not,  I  hare  dreamt  that  I  shall  save  her,  the 
gem  and  darling  of  my  house.  Fear  not,  /  have  no 
fear." 

"  Know  you  where  to  seek  ?  "  said  Adrian,  impa- 
tiently ;  "  the  Convent  holds  far  other  guests." 

"  Ha !  so  said  my  dream !  " 

"  Talk  not  now  of  dreams,"  said  the  lover ;  "  but 
if  you  have  no  other  guide,  let  us  part  at  once  in 
quest  of  her.  I  will  take  yonder  street,  you  take 
tjie  opposite,  and  at  sunset  let  us  meet  in  the  same 
spot." 

"  Rash  man !  "  said  the  Tribune,  with  great  solem- 
nity ;  "  scoff  not  at  the  visions  which  Heaven  makes 
a  parable  to  its  Chosen.  Thou  seekest  counsel  of  thy 
human  wisdom ;  I,  less  presumptuous,  follow  the  hand 
of  the  mysterious  Providence,  moving  even  now  be- 
fore my  gaze  as  a  pillar  of  light  through  the  wilderness 
of  dread.  Ay,  meet  me  here  at  sunset,  and  prove 
whose  guide  is  the  most  unerring.  If  my  dream  tell 
me  true,  I  shall  see  my  sister  living,  ere  the  sun  reach 
yonder  hill,  and  by  a  church  dedicated  to  St.  Mark." 

The  grave  earnestness  with  which  Rienzi  spoke  im- 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES        413 

pressed  Adrian  with  a  hope  which  his  reason  would 
not  acknowledge.  He  saw  him  depart  with  that  proud 
and  stately  step  to  which  his  sweeping  garments  gave 
a  yet  more  imposing  dignity,  and  then  passed  up  the 
street  to  the  right  hand.  He  had  not  got  half-way 
when  he  felt  himself  pulled  by  the  mantle.  He  turned, 
and  saw  the  shapeless  mask  of  a  Becchino. 

"  I  feared  you  were  sped,  and  that  another  had 
cheated  me  of  my  office,"  said  the  grave-digger,  "  see- 
ing that  you  returned  not  to  the  old  Prince's  palace. 
You  don't  know  me  from  the  rest  of  us  I  see,  but  I 
am  the  one  you  told  to  seek " 

"  Irene !  " 

"  Yes,  Irene  di  Gabrini ;  you  promised  ample  re- 
ward." 

"You.  shall  have  it." 

"  Follow  me." 

The  Becchino  strode  on,  and  soon  arrived  at  a  man- 
sion. He  knocked  twice  at  the  porter's  entrance,  an 
old  woman  cautiously  opened  the  door.  "  Fear  not, 
good  aunt,"  said  the  grave-digger;  "  this  is  the  young 
Lord  I  spoke  to  thee  of.  Thou  sayest  thou  hadst  two 
ladies  in  the  palace,  who  alone  survived  of  all  the 
lodgers,  and  their  names  were  Bianca  de  Medici,  and 
— what  was  the  other  ?  " 

"  Irene  di  Gabrini,  a  Roman  lady.  But  I  told  thee 
this  was  the  fourth  day  they  left  the  house,  terrified  by 
the  deaths  within  it." 

"  Thou  didst  so  :  and  was  there  anything  remarkable 
in  the  dress  of  the  Signora  di  Gabrini  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  have  told  thee :  a  blue  mantle,  such  as  I 
have  rarely  seen,  wrought  with  silver." 

"  Was  the  broidery  that  of  stars,  silver  stars,"  ex- 
claimed Adrian,  "  with  a  sun  in  the  centre  ?  " 


414  RIENZI 

"  It  was." 

"  Alas !  alas !  the  arms  of  the  Tribune's  family !  I  re- 
member how  I  praised  the  mantle  the  first  day  she 
wore  it — the  day  on  which  we  were  betrothed !  "  And 
the  lover  at  once  conjectured  the  secret  sentiment 
which  had  induced  Irene  to  retain  thus  carefully  a  robe 
so  endeared  by  association. 

"  You  know  no  more  of  your  lodgers  ?  " 

"  Nothing." 

"  And  is  this  all  you  have  learned,  knave  ?  "  cried 
Adrian. 

"  Patience.  I  must  bring  you  from  proof  to  proof, 
and  link  to  link,  in  order  to  win  my  reward.  Follow, 
Signor." 

The  Becchino  then  passing  through  the  several 
lanes  and  streets,  arrived  at  another  house  of  less  mag- 
nificent size  and  architecture.  Again  he  tapped  thrice 
at  the  parlour  door,  and  this  time  came  forth  a  man 
withered,  old,  and  palsied,  whom  death  seemed  to  dis- 
dain to  strike. 

"  Signor  Astuccio,"  said  the  Becchino,  "  pardon  me ; 
but  I  told  thee  I  might  trouble  thee  again.  This  is 
the  gentleman  who  wants  to  know,  what  is  often  best 
unknown — but  that's  not  my  affair.  Did  a  lady — 
young  and  beautiful — with  dark  hair,  and  of  a  slender 
form,  enter  this  house,  stricken  with  the  first  symptom 
of  the  Plague,  three  days  since  ?  " 

"  Ay,  thou  knowest  that  well  enough ;  and  thou 
knowest  still  better,  that  she  has  departed  these  two 
days :  it  was  quick  work  with  her,  quicker  than  with 
most!" 

"  Did  she  wear  anything  remarkable  ?  " 

"  Yes,  troublesome  man :  a  blue  cloak,  with  stars 
of  silver." 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES       415 

"  Couldst  them  guess  aught  of  her  previous  circum- 
stances ?  " 

"  No,  save  that  she  raved  much  about  the  nunnery 
of  Santa  Maria  de'  Pazzi,  and  bravos,  and  sacrilege." 

"  Are  you  satisfied,  Signor  ?  "  asked  the  grave-dig- 
ger, with  an  air  of  triumph,  turning  to  Adrian.  "  But 
no,  I  will  satisfy  thee  better,  if  thou  hast  courage. 
Wilt  thou  follow  ?  " 

"  I  comprehend  thee  ;  lead  on.  Courage  !  What  is 
there  on  earth  now  to  fear  ?  " 

Muttering  to  himself,  "  Ay,  leave  me  alone.  I  have 
a  head  worth  something ;  I  ask  no  gentleman  to  go  by 
my  word ;  I  will  make  his  own  eyes  the  judge  of  what 
my  trouble  is  worth,"  the  grave-digger  now  led  the 
way  through  one  of  the  gates  a  little  out  of  the  city. 
And  here,  under  a  shed,  sat  six  of  his  ghastly  and  ill- 
omened  brethren,  with  spades  and  pickaxes  at  their 
feet. 

His  guide  now  turned  round  to  Adrian,  whose  face 
was  set,  and  resolute  in  despair. 

"  Fair  Signor,"  said  he,  with  some  touch  of  linger- 
ing compassion,  "  wouldst  thou  really  convince  thine 
own  eyes  and  heart  ? — the  sight  may  appal,  the  conta- 
gion may  destroy,  thee, — if,  indeed,  as  it  seems  to  me, 
Death  has  not  already  written  '  mine '  upon  thee." 

"  Raven  of  bode  and  woe ! "  answered  Adrian, 
"  seest  thou  not  that  all  I  shrink  from  is  thy  voice  and 
aspect  ?  Show  me  her  I  seek,  living  or  dead." 

"  I  will  show  her  to  you,  then,"  said  the  Becchino, 
sullenly,  "  such  as  two  nights  since  she  was  committed 
to  my  charge.  Line  and  lineament  may  already  be 
swept  away,  for  the  Plague  hath  a  rapid  besom :  but  I 
have  left  that  upon  her  by  which  you  will  know  the 
Becchino  is  no  liar.  Bring  hither  the  torches,  com- 


416  RIENZI 

rades,  and  lift  the  door.  Never  stare ;  it's  the  gentle- 
man's whim,  and  he'll  pay  it  well." 

Turning  to  the  right,  while  Adrian  mechanically  fol- 
lowed his  conductors,  a  spectacle  whose  dire  philoso- 
phy crushes  as  with  a  wheel  all  the  pride  of  mortal 
man — the  spectacle  of  that  vault  in  which  earth  hides 
all  that  on  earth  flourished,  rejoiced,  exulted — awaited 
his  eye! 

The  Becchini  lifted  a  ponderous  grate,  lowered  their 
torches  (scarcely  needed,  for  through  the  aperture 
rushed,  with  a  hideous  glare,  the  light  of  the  burning 
sun,)  and  motioned  to  Adrian  to  advance.  He  stood 
upon  the  summit  of  the  abyss  and  gazed  below. 


It  was  a  large  deep  and  circular  space,  like  the  bot- 
tom of  an  exhausted  well.  In  niches  cut  into  the  walls 
of  earth  around,  lay,  duly  coffined,  those  who  had  been 
the  earliest  victims  of  the  plague,  when  the  Becchino's 
market  was  not  yet  glutted,  and  priest  followed,  and 
friend  mourned  the  dead.  But  on  the  floor  below, 
there  was  the  loathsome  horror!  Huddled  and  matted 
together — some  naked,  some  in  shrouds  already  black 
and  rotten — lay  the  later  guests,  the  unshriven  and 
unblest !  The  torches,  the  sun,  streamed  broad  and 
red  over  Corruption  in  all  its  stages,  from  the  pale  blue 
tint  and  swollen  shape,  to  the  moistened  undistinguish- 
able  mass,  or  the  riddled  bones,  where  yet  clung,  in 
strips  and  tatters,  the  black  and  mangled  flesh.  In 
many,  the  face  remained  almost  perfect,  while  the  rest 
of  the  body  was  but  bone :  the  long  hair,  the  human 
face,  surmounting  the  grisly  skeleton.  There  was  the 
infant,  still  on  the  mother's  breast ;  there  was  the  lover, 
stretched  across  the  dainty  limbs  of  his  adored !  The 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES        417 

rats,  (for  they  clustered  in  numbers  to  that  feast,)  dis- 
turbed, not  scared,  sate  up  from  their  horrid  meal  as 
the  light  glimmered  over  them,  and  thousands  of  them 
lay  round,  stark,  and  dead,  poisoned  by  what  they 
fed  on!  There,  too,  the  wild  satire  of  the  grave-dig- 
gers had  cast,  though  stripped  of  their  gold  and  jewels, 
the  emblems  that  spoke  of  departed  rank ; — the  broken 
wand  of  the  Councillor ;  the  General's  baton ;  the 
Priestly  Mitre !  The  foul  and  livid  exhalations  gath- 
ered like  flesh  itself,  fungous  and  putrid,  upon  the 
walls,  and  the* 

***** 

But  who  shall  detail  the  ineffable  and  unimaginable 
horrors  that  reigned  over  the  Palace  where  the  Great 
King  received  the  prisoners  whom  the  sword  of  the 
Pestilence  had  subdued  ? 

But  through  all  that  crowded  court — crowded  with 
beauty  and  with  birth,  with  the  strength  of  the  young 
and  the  honours  of  the  old,  and  the  valour  of  the  brave, 
and  the  wisdom  of  the  learned,  and  the  wit  of  the 
scorner,  and  the  piety  of  the  faithful — one  only  figure 
attracted  Adrian's  eye.  Apart  from  the  rest,  a  late 
comer — the  long  locks  streaming  far  and  dark  over 
arm  and  breast — lay  a  female,  the  face  turned  partially 
aside,  the  little  seen  not  recognisable  even  by  the 
mother  of  the  dead, — but  wrapped  round  in  that  fatal 
mantle,  on  which,  though  blackened  and  tarnished, 
was  yet  visible  the  starry  heraldry  assumed  by  those 
who  claimed  the  name  of  the  proud  Tribune  of  Rome. 
Adrian  saw  no  more — he  fell  back  in  the  arms  of  the 

*  The  description  in  the  text  is  borrowed  from  the  famous 
waxwork  model  [of  the  interior  of  the  Charnel-house]  at 
Florence. 

27 


4i8  RIENZI 

grave-diggers:  when  he  recovered,  he  was  still  with- 
out the  gates  of  Florence — reclined  upon  a  green 
mound — his  guide  stood  beside  him — holding  his  steed 
by  the  bridle  as  it  grazed  patiently  on  the  neglected 
grass.  The  other  brethren  of  the  axe  had  resumed 
their  seat  under  the  shed. 

"  So,  you  have  revived !  Ah !  I  thought  it  was  only 
the  effluvia;  few  stand  it  as  we  do.  And  so,  as  your 
search  is  over,  deeming  you  would  now  be  quitting 
Florence  if  you  have  any  sense  left  to  you,  I  went  for 
your  good  horse.  I  have  fed  him  since  your  departure 
from  the  palace.  Indeed  I  fancied  he  would  be  my 
perquisite,  but  there  are  plenty  as  good.  Come,  young 
sir,  mount.  I  feel  a  pity  for  you,  I  know  not  why,  ex- 
cept that  you  are  the  only  one  I  have  met  for  weeks 
who  seems  to  care  for  another  more  than  for  yourself. 
I  hope  you  are  satisfied  now  that  I  showed  some 
brains,  eh !  in  your  service :  and  as  I  have  kept  my 
promise,  you'll  keep  yours." 

"  Friend,"  said  Adrian,  "  here  is  gold  enough  to 
make  thee  rich ;  here,  too,  is  a  jewel  that  merchants 
will  tell  thee  princes  might  vie  to  purchase.  Thou 
seemest  honest,  despite  thy  calling,  or  thou  mightest 
have  robbed  and  murdered  me  long  since.  Do  me 
one  favour  more." 

"  By  my  poor  mother's  soul,  yes." 

"  Take  yon — yon  clay  from  that  fearful  place.  Inter 
it  in  some  quiet  and  remote  spot — apart — --alone  !  You 
promise  me  ? — you  swear  it  ? — it  is  well !  And  now 
help  me  on  my  horse.  Farewell  Italy,  and  if  I  die 
not  with  this  stroke,  may  I  die  as  befits  at  once  honour 
and  despair — with  trumpet  and  banner  round  me — in 
a  well-fought  field  against  a  worthy  foe! — Save  a 
knightly  death,  nothing  is  left  to  live  for !  " 


BOOK   VII 

THE  PRISON 

"  Fu  rinchiuso  in  una  torre  grossa  e  larga;  avea  libri  assai, 
suo  Tito  Livio,  sue  storie  di  Roma,  la  Bibbia,  &c. — Vit,  di 
Cola  di  Rienzi,  lib.  ii.  c.  13. 

"  He  was  immured  in  a  high  and  spacious  tower;  he  had 
bo^pks  enough,  his  Titus  Livius,  his  histories  of  Rome,  the 
Bible,"  &c. 

CHAPTER   I 

AVIGNON. THE  TWO    PAGES. THE   STRANGER   BEAUTY 

There  is  this  difference  between  the  Drama  of 
Shakspeare,  and  that  of  almost  every  other  master 
of  the  same  art;  that  in  the  first,  the  catastrophe  is 
rarely  produced  by  one  single  cause — one  simple  and 
continuous  chain  of  events.  Various  and  complicated 
agencies  work  out  the  final  end.  Unfettered  by  the 
rules  of  time  and  place,  each  time,  each  place  depicted, 
presents  us  with  its  appropriate  change  of  action,  or  of 
actors.  Sometimes  the  interest  seems  to  halt,  to  turn 
aside,  to  bring  us  unawares  upon  objects  hitherto  un- 
noticed, or  upon  qualities  of  the  characters  hitherto 
hinted  at,  not  developed.  But,  in  reality,  the  pause 
in  the  action  is  but  to  collect,  to  gather  up,  and  to 
grasp,  all  the  varieties  of  circumstance  that  conduce 
to  the  Great  Result :  and  the  art  of  fiction  is  only  de- 
serted for  the  fidelity  of  history.  Whoever  seeks  to 
place  before  the  world  the  true  representation  of  a 

419 


420  RIENZI 

man's  life  and  times,  and  enlarging  the  Dramatic  into 
the  Epic,  extends  his  narrative  over  the  vicissitudes  of 
years,  will  find  himself  unconsciously,  in  this,  the  im- 
itator of  Shakspeare.  New  characters,  each  condu- 
cive to  the  end — new  scenes,  each  leading  to  the  last, 
rises  before  him  as  he  proceeds,  sometimes  seeming  to 
the  reader  to  delay,  even  while  they  advance,  the  dread 
catastrophe.  The  sacrificial  procession  sweeps  along, 
swelled  by  new  comers,  losing  many  that  first  joined 
it ;  before,  at  last,  the  same  as  a  whole,  but  differing 
in  its  components,  the  crowd  reach  the  fated  bourn  of 
the  Altar  and  the  Victim ! 

It  is  five  years  after  the  date  of  the  events  I  have 
recorded,  and  my  story  conveys  us  to  the  Papal  Court 
at  Avignon — that  tranquil  seat  of  power,  to  which  the 
successors  of  St.  Peter  had  transplanted  the  luxury, 
the  pomp,  and  the  vices,  of  the  Imperial  City.  Secure 
from  the  fraud  or  violence  of  a  powerful  and  barbarous 
nobility,  the  courtiers  of  the  See  surrendered  them- 
selves to  a  holyday  of  delight — their  repose  was  de- 
voted to  enjoyment,  and  Avignon  presented,  at  that 
day,  perhaps  the  gayest  and  most  voluptuous  society 
of  Europe.  The  elegance  of  Clement  VI.  had  diffused 
an  air  of  literary  refinement  over  the  grosser  pleasures 
of  the  place,  and  the  spirit  of  Petrarch  still  continued 
to  work  its  way  through  the  councils  of  faction  and 
the  orgies  of  debauch. 

Innocent  VI.  had  lately  succeeded  Clement,  and 
whatever  his  own  claims  to  learning,*  he,  at  least,  ap- 
preciated knowledge  and  intellect  in  others;  so  that 

*  Matteo  Villani  (lib.  iii.  cap.  44)  says  that  Innocent  VI. 
had  not  much  pretension  to  learning.  He  is  reported,  how- 
ever, by  other  authorities,  cited  by  Zefirino  Re,  to  have  been 
"  eccellente  canonista."  He  had  been  a  professor  in  the  Uni- 
versity of  Toulouse. 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES        421 

the  graceful  pedantry  of  the  time  continued  to  mix 
itself  with  the  pursuit  of  pleasure.  The  corruption 
which  reigned  through  the  whole  place  was  too  con- 
firmed to  yield  to  the  example  of  Innocent,  himself 
a  man  of  simple  habits  and  exemplary  life.  Though, 
like  his  predecessor,  obedient  to  the  policy  of  France, 
Innocent  possessed  a  hard  and  an  extended  ambition. 
Deeply  concerned  for  the  interests  of  the  Church,  he 
formed  the  project  of  confirming  and  re-establishing 
her  shaken  dominion  in  Italy ;  and  he  regarded  the 
tyrants  of  the  various  states  as  the  principal  obsta- 
cles to  his  ecclesiastical  ambition.  Nor  was  this  the 
policy  of  Innocent  VI.  alone.  With  such  exceptions 
as  peculiar  circumstances  necessarily  occasioned,  the 
Papal  See  was,  upon  the  whole,  friendly  to  the  polit- 
ical liberties  of  Italy.  The  Republics  of  the  Middle 
Ages  grew  up  under  the  shadow  of  the  Church ;  and 
there,  as  elsewhere,  it  was  found,  contrary  to  a  vulgar 
opinion,  that  Religion,  however  prostituted  and  per- 
verted, served  for  the  general  protection  of  civil  free- 
dom,— raised  the  lowly,  and  resisted  the  oppressor. 

At  this  period  there  appeared  at  Avignon  a  lady  of 
singular  and  matchless  beauty.  She  had  come  with  a 
slender  but  well-appointed  retinue  from  Florence,  but 
declared  herself  of  Neapolitan  birth;  the  widow  of  a 
noble  of  the  brilliant  court  of  the  unfortunate  Jane. 
Her  name  was  Cesarini.  Arrived  at  a  place  where, 
even  in  the  citadel  of  Christianity,  Venus  retained  her 
ancient  empire,  where  Love  made  the  prime  business 
of  life,  and  to  be  beautiful  was  to  be  of  power ;  the 
Signora  Cesarini  had  scarcely  appeared  in  public  be- 
fore she  saw  at  her  feet  half  the  rank  and  gallantry 
of  Avignon.  Her  female  attendants  were  beset  with 
bribes  and  billets ;  and  nightly,  beneath  her  lattice,  was 


422  RIENZI 

heard  the  plaintive  serenade.  She  entered  largely  into 
the  gay  dissipation  of  the  town,  and  her  charms  shared 
the  celebrity  of  the  hour  with  the  verse  of  Petrarch. 
But  though  she  frowned  on  none,  none  could  claim 
the  monopoly  of  her  smiles.  Her  fair  fame  was  as 
yet  unblemished ;  but  if  any  might  presume  beyond 
the  rest,  she  seemed  to  have  selected  rather  from  am- 
bition than  love,  and  Giles,  the  warlike  Cardinal 
d'Albornoz,  all  powerful  at  the  sacred  court,  already 
foreboded  the  hour  of  his  triumph. 

It  was  late  noon,  and  in  the  ante-chamber  of  the 
fair  Signora  waited  two  of  that  fraternity  of  pages,  fair 
and  richly  clad,  who,  at  that  day,  furnished  the 
favourite  attendants  to  rank  of  either  sex. 

"  By  my  troth,"  cried  one  of  these  young  servitors, 
pushing  from  him  the  dice  with  which  himself  and  his 
companion  had  sought  to  beguile  their  leisure,  "  this  is 
but  dull  work!  and  the  best  part  of  the  day  is  gone. 
Our  lady  is  late." 

"  And  I  have  donned  my  new  velvet  mantle,"  re- 
plied the  other,  compassionately  eyeing  his  finery. 

"  Chut,  Giacomo,"  said  his  comrade,  yawning ;  "  a 
truce  with  thy  conceit. — What  news  abroad,  I  wonder? 
Has  his  Holiness  come  to  his  senses  yet?  " 

"  His  senses ;  what,  is  he  mad  then  ?  "  quoth  Giaco- 
mo, in  a  serious  and  astonished  whisper. 

"  I  think  he  is ;  if,  being  Pope,  he  does  not  discover 
that  he  may  at  length  lay  aside  mask  and  hood. 
'  Continent  Cardinal — lewd  Pope,'  is  the  old  motto, 
you  know ;  something  must  be  the  matter  with  the 
good  man's  brain  if  he  continue  to  live  like  a  her- 
mit." 

"  Oh,  I  have  you !  but  faith,  his  Holiness  has  prox- 
ies eno'.  The  bishops  take  care  to  prevent  women, 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES       423 

Heaven  bless  them !  going  out  of  fashion ;  and  Al- 
bornoz  does  not  maintain  your  proverb,  touching  the 
Cardinals." 

"  True,  but  Giles  is  a  warrior, — a  cardinal  in  the 
church,  but  a  soldier  in  the  city." 

"  Will  he  carry  the  fort  here,  think  you,  Angelo  ?  " 

"  Why,  fort  is  female,  but " 

"But  what?" 

"  The  Signora's  brow  is  made  for  power,  rather  than 
love,  fair  as  it  is.  She  sees  in  Albornoz  the  prince, 
and  not  the  lover.  With  what  a  step  she  sweeps  the 
floor !  it  disdains  even  the  cloth  of  gold !  " 

"  Hark !  "  cried  Giacomo,  hastening  to  the  lattice, 
"  hear  you  the  hoofs  below  ?  Ah,  a  gallant  com- 
pany !  " 

"  Returned  from  hawking,"  answered  Angelo,  re- 
garding wistfully  the  cavalcade,  as  it  swept  the  narrow 
street.  "  Plumes  waving,  steeds  curvetting — see  how 
yon  handsome  cavalier  presses  close  to  that  da,me !  " 

"  His  mantle  is  the  colour  of  mine,"  sighed  Gia- 
como. 

As  the  gay  procession  paced  slowly  on,  till  hidden 
by  the  winding  street,  and  as  the  sound  of  laughter 
and  the  tramp  of  horses  was  yet  faintly  heard,  there 
frowned  right  before  the  straining  gaze  of  the  pages, 
a  dark  massive  tower  of  the  mighty  masonry  of  the 
eleventh  century :  the  sun  gleamed  sadly  on  its  vast 
and  dismal  surface,  which  was  only  here  and  there 
relieved  by  loopholes  and  narrow  slits,  rather  than 
casements.  It  was  a  striking  contrast  to  the  gaiety 
around,  the  glittering  shops,  and  the  gaudy  train  that 
had  just  filled  the  space  below.  This  contrast  the 
young  men  seemed  involuntarily  to  feel ;  they  drew 
back,  and  looked  at  each  other. 


424  RIENZI 

"  I  know  your  thoughts,  Giacomo,"  said  Angelo,  the 
handsomer  and  elder  of  the  two.  "  You  think  yon 
tower  affords  but  a  gloomy  lodgment  ?  " 

"  And  I  thank  my  stars  that  made  me  not  high 
enough  to  require  so  grand  a  cage,"  rejoined  Gia- 
como. 

"  Yet,"  observed  Angelo,  "  it  holds  one,  who  in 
birth  was  not  our  superior." 

"  Do  tell  me,  something  of  that  strange  man,"  said 
Giacomo,  regaining  his  seat ;  "  you  are  Roman  and 
should  know." 

"  Yes !  "  answered  Angelo,  haughtily  drawing  him- 
self up.  "  I  am  Roman !  and  I  should  be  unworthy 
my  birth,  if  I  had  not  already  learned  what  honour 
is  due  to  the  name  of  Cola  di  Rienzi." 

"  Yet  your  fellow-Romans  nearly  stoned  him,  I 
fancy,"  muttered  Giacomo.  "  Honour  seems  to  lie 
more  in  kicks  than  money.  Can  you  tell  me,"  con- 
tinued the  page  in  a  louder  key,  "  can  you  tell  me  if 
it  be  true,  that  Rienzi  appeared  at  Prague  before  the 
Emperor,  and  prophesied  that  the  late  Pope  and  all 
the  Cardinals  should  be  murdered,  and  a  new  Italian 
Pope  elected,  who  should  endue  the  Emperor  with  a 
golden  crown,  as  Sovereign  of  Sicilia,  Calabria,  and 
Apulia,*  and  himself  with  a  crown  of  silver,  as  King 
of  Rome,  and  all  Italy  ?  And " 

"  Hush  !  "  interrupted  Angelo,  impatiently.  "  Listen 
to  me,  and  you  shall  know  the  exact  story.  On  last 
leaving  Rome  (thou  knowest  that,  after  his  fall,  he  was 

present  at  the  Jubilee  in  disguise)  the  Tribune ' 

here  Angelo,  pausing,  looked  round,  and  then  with 
a  flushed  cheek  and  raised  voice  resumed,  "  Yes,  the 

*  An  absurd  fable,  adopted  by  certain  historians. 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES       425 

Tribune,  that  was  and  shall  be — travelled  in  disguise, 
as  a  pilgrim,  over  mountain  and  forest,  night  and  day, 
exposed  to  rain  and  storm,  no  shelter  but  the  cave, — 
he  who  had  been,  they  say,  the  very  spoilt  one  of  Lux- 
ury. Arrived  at  length  in  Bohemia,  he  disclosed  him- 
self to  a  Florentine  in  Prague,  and  through  his  aid 
obtained  audience  of  the  Emperor  Charles." 

"  A  prudent  man,  the  Emperor !  "  said  Giacomo, 
"  close-fisted  as  a  miser.  He  makes  conquests  by 
bargain,  and  goes  to  market  for  laurels, — as  I  have 
heard  my  brother  say,  who  was  under  him." 

"  True ;  but  I  have  also  heard  that  he  likes  book- 
men and  scholars — is  wise  and  temperate,  and  much  is 
yet  hoped  from  him  in  Italy !  Before  the  Emperor,  I 
say,  came  Rienzi.  '  Know,  great  Prince,'  said  he, 
'  that  I  am  that  Rienzi  to  whom  God  gave  to  govern 
Rome,  in  peace,  with  justice,  and  to  freedom.  I 
curbed  the  nobles,  I  purged  corruption,  I  amended 
law.  The  powerful  persecuted  me — pride  and  envy 
have  chased  me  from  my  dominions.  Great  as  you 
are,  fallen  as  I  am,  I  too  have  wielded  the  sceptre  and 
might  have  worn  a  crown.  Know,  too,  that  I  am 
illegitimately  of  your  lineage ;  my  father  the  son  of 
Henry  VII.;*  the  blood  of  the  Teuton  rolls  in  my 
veins ;  mean  as  were  my  earlier  fortunes  and  humble 
my  earlier  name !  From  you,  O  king,  I  seek  protec- 
tion, and  I  demand  justice."  f 

"  A  bold  speech,  and  one  from  equal  to  equal,"  said 
Giacomo ;  "  surely  you  swell  us  out  the  words." 

"  Not  a  whit;  they  were  written  down  by  the  Em- 
peror's scribe,  and  every  Roman  who  has  once  heard 

*  Uncle  to  the  Emperor  Charles. 

t  See,  for  this  speech,  "  The  Anonymous  Biographer,"  lib. 
ii.  cap.  12. 


426  RIENZI 

knows  them  by  heart :  once  every  Roman  was  the 
equal  to  a  king,  and  Rienzi  maintained  our  dignity  in 
asserting  his  own." 

Giacomo,  who  discreetly  avoided  quarrels,  knew  the 
weak  side  of  his  friend ;  and  though  in  his  heart  he 
thought  the  Romans  as  good-for-nothing  a  set  of 
turbulent  dastards  as  all  Italy  might  furnish,  he  merely 
picked  a  straw  from  his  mantle,  and  said,  in  rather  an 
impatient  tone,  "  Humph !  proceed !  did  the  Emperor 
dismiss  him  ? " 

"  Not  so :  Charles  was  struck  with  his  bearing  and 
his  spirit,  received  him  graciously,  and  entertained  him 
hospitably.  He  remained  some  time  'at  Prague,  and 
astonished  all  the  learned  with  his  knowledge  and 
eloquence."* 

"  But  if  so  honoured  at  Prague,  how  comes  he  a 
prisoner  at  Avignon  ?  " 

"  Giacomo,"  said  Angelo,  thoughtfully,  "  there  are 
some  men  whom  we,  of  another  mind  and  mould,  can 
rarely  comprehend,  and  never  fathom.  And  of  such 
men  I  have  observed  that  a  supreme  confidence  in 
their  own  fortunes  or  their  own  souls,  is  the  most  com- 
mon feature.  Thus  impressed,  and  thus  buoyed,  they 
rush  into  danger  with  a  seeming  madness,  and  from 
danger  soar  to  greatness,  or  sink  to  death.  So  with 
Rienzi ;  dissatisfied  with  empty  courtesies  and  weary 
of  playing  the  pedant,  since  once  he  had  played  the 
prince ; — some  say  of  his  own  accord,  (though  others 

*  His  Italian  contemporary  delights  in  representing  this 
remarkable  man  as  another  Crichton.  "  Disputava."  he  says 
of  him  when  at  Prague,  "  disputava  con  Mastri  di  teologia; 
molto  diceva,  parlava  cose  meravigliose  ....  abbair  fea  ogni 
persona." — "  He  disputed  with  Masters  of  theology — he 
spoke  much,  he  discoursed  things  wonderful — he  astonished 
every  one." 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES        427 

relate  that  he  .was  surrendered  to  the  Pope's  legate 
by  Charles,)  he  left  the  Emperor's  court,  and  without 
arms,  without  money,  betook  himself  at  once  to  Avig- 
non !  " 

"  Madness  indeed !  " 

"  Yet,  perhaps,  his  only  course,  under  all  circum- 
stances," resumed  the  elder  page.  "  Once  before  his 
fall,  and  once  during  his  absence  from  Rome,  he  had 
been  excommunicated  by  the  Pope's  legate.  He  was 
accused  of  heresy — the  ban  was  still  on  him.  It  was 
necessary  that  he  should  clear  himself.  How  was  the 
poor  exile  to  do  so?  No  powerful  friend  stood  up 
for  the  friend  of  the  people.  No  courtier  vindicated 
one  who  had  trampled  on  the  neck  of  the  nobles.  His 
own  genius  was  his  only  friend ;  on  that  only  could  he 
rely.  He  sought  Avignon,  to  free  himself  from  the 
accusations  against  him ;  and,  doubtless,  he  hoped  that 
there  was  but  one  step  from  his  acquittal  to  his  restora- 
tion. Besides,  it  is  certain  that  the  Emperor  had  been 
applied  to,  formally  to  surrender  Rienzi.  He  had  the 
choice  before  him ;  for  to  that  sooner  or  later  it  must 
come — to  go  free,  or  to  go  in  bonds — as  a  criminal, 
or  as  a  Roman.  He  chose  the  latter.  Wherever  he 
passed  along,  the  people  rose  in  every  town,  in  every 
hamlet.  The  name  of  the  great  Tribune  was  hon- 
oured throughout  all  Italy.  They  besought  him  not 
to  rush  into  the  very  den  of  peril — they  implored  him 
to  save  himself  for  that  country  which  he  had  sought 
to  raise.  '  I  go  to  vindicate  myself,  and  to  triumph,' 
was  the  Tribune's  answer.  Solemn  honours  were  paid 
him  in  the  cities  through  which  he  passed;*  and  I 
am  told  that  never  ambassador,  prince,  or  baron,  en- 

*  "  Per  tutto  la  via  li  furo  fatti  solenni  onori,"  &c. — Vit.  di 
Col.  di  Rienzi,  lib.  ii.  cap.  13. 


428  RIENZI 

tered  Avignon  with  so  long  a  train  as  that  which 
followed  into  these  very  walls  the  steps  of  Cola  di 
Rienzi." 

"  And  on  his  arrival  ?  " 

"  He  demanded  an  audience,  that  he  might  refute 
the  charges  against  him.  He  flung  down  the  gage 
to  the  proud  cardinals  who  had  excommunicated  him. 
He  besought  a  trial." 

"  And  what  said  the  Pope  ?  " 

"  Nothing — by  word.    Yon  tower  was  his  answer !  " 

"  A  rough  one !  " 

"  But  there  have  been  longer  roads  than  that  from 
the  prison  to  the  palace,  and  God  made  not  men  like 
Rienzi  for  the  dungeon  and  the  chain." 

As  Angelo  said  this  with  a  loud  voice,  and  with  all 
the  enthusiasm  with  which  the  fame  of  the  fallen  Trib- 
une had  inspired  the  youth  of  Rome,  he  heard  a  sigh 
behind  him.  He  turned  in  some  confusion,  and  at  the 
door  which  admitted  to  the  chamber  occupied  by  the 
Signora  Cesarini,  stood  a  female  of  noble  presence. 
Attired  in  the  richest  garments,  gold  and  gems  were 
dull  to  the  lustre  of  her  dark  eyes,  and  as  she  now 
stood,  erect  and  commanding,  never  seemed  brow  more 
made  for  the  regal  crown — never  did  human  beauty 
more  fully  consummate  the  ideal  of  a  heroine  and  a 
queen. 

"  Pardon  me,  Signora,"  said  Angelo,  hesitatingly ; 
"  I  spoke  loud,  I  disturbed  you ;  but  I  am  Roman,  and 
my  theme  was " 

"  Rienzi !  "  said  the  lady,  approaching ;  "  a  fit  one 
to  stir  a  Roman  heart.  Nay — no  excuses :  they  would 
sound  ill  on  thy  generous  lips.  Ah,  if — "  the  Signora 
paused  suddenly,  and  sighed  again ;  then  in  an  altered 
and  graver  tone  she  resumed — "  if  fate  restore  Rienzi 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES        429 

to  his  proper  fortunes,  he  shall  know  what  thou  deem- 
est  of  him." 

"  If  you,  lady,  who  are  of  Naples,"  said  Angelo, 
with  meaning  emphasis,  "  speak  thus  of  a  fallen  exile, 
what  must  I  have  felt  who  acknowledged  a  sover- 
eign?" 

"  Rienzi  is  not  of  Rome  alone — he  is  of  Italy — of 
the  world,"  returned  the  Signora.  "  And  you,  An- 
gelo, who  have  had  the  boldness  to  speak  thus  of  one 
fallen,  have  proved  with  what  loyalty  you  can  serve 
those  who  have  the  fortune  to  own  you." 

As  she  spoke,  the  Signora  looked  at  the  page's 
downcast  and  blushing  face  long  and  wistfully,  with 
the  gaze  of  one  accustomed  to  read  the  soul  in  the 
countenance. 

"  Men  are  often  deceived,"  said  she,  sadly,  yet  with 
a  half  smile ;  "  but  women  rarely, — save  in  love. 
Would  that'  Rome  were  filled  with  such  as  you! 
Enough !  Hark !  Is  that  the  sound  of  hoofs  in  the 
court  below  ?  " 

"  Madam,"  said  Giacomo,  bringing  his  mantle  gal- 
lantly over  his  shoulder,  "  I  see  the  servitors  of  Mon- 
signore  the  Cardinal  d'Albornoz. — It  is  the  Cardinal 
himself." 

"  It  is  well ! "  said  the  Signora,  with  a  brightening 
eye ;  "  I  await  him ! "  With  these  words  she  with- 
drew by  the  door  through  which  she  had  surprised 
the  Roman  page. 


430  RIENZI 


CHAPTER   II 

THE    CHARACTER    OF    A    WARRIOR-PRIEST — AN    INTER- 
VIEW  THE    INTRIGUE    AND    COUNTER-INTRIGUE    OF 

COURTS 

Giles,  (or  Egidio,*)  Cardinal  d'Albornoz,  was  one 
of  the  remarkable  men  of  that  remarkable  time,  so 
prodigal  of  genius.  Boasting  his  descent  from  the 
royal  houses  of  Aragon  and  Leon,  he  had  early  en- 
tered the  church,  and  yet  almost  a  youth,  attained  the 
archbishopric  of  Toledo.  But  no  peaceful  career, 
however  brilliant,  sufficed  to  his  ambition.  He  could 
not  content  himself  with  the  honours  of  the  Church, 
unless  they  were  the  honours  of  a  church  militant. 
In  the  war  against  the  Moors,  no  Spaniard  had  more 
highly  distinguished  himself;  and  Alphonso  XL,  king 
of  Castile,  had  insisted  on  receiving  from  the  hand 
of  the  martial  priest  the  badge  of  knighthood.  After 
the  death  of  Alphonso,  who  was  strongly  attached  to 
him,  Albornoz  repaired  to  Avignon,  and  obtained  from 
Clement  VI.  the  cardinal's  hat.  With  Innocent  he 
continued  in  high  favour,  and  now,  constantly  in  the 
councils  of  the  Pope,  rumours  of  warlike  preparation, 
under  the  banners  of  Albornoz,  for  the  recovery  of  the 
papal  dominions  from  the  various  tyrants  that  usurped 
them,  were  already  circulated  through  the  court,  f 

*  Egidio  is  the  proper  Italian  equivalent  to  the  French 
name  Gilles, — but  the  Cardinal  is  generally  called,  by  the 
writers  of  that  day,  Gilio  d'Albornoz. 

t  It  is  a  characteristic  anecdote  of  this  bold  Churchman, 
that  Urban  V.  one  day  demanded  an  account  of  the  sums 
spent  in  his  military  expedition  against  the  Italian  tyrants. 
The  Cardinal  presented  to  the  Pope  a  waggon,  filled  with 
the  keys  of  the  cities  and  fortresses  he  had  taken.  "  This  is 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES        431 

Bold,  sagacious,  enterprising,  and  cold-hearted, — with 
the  valour  of  the  knight,  and  the  cunning  of  the  priest, 
— such  was  the  character  of  Giles,  Cardinal  d'Albor- 
noz. 

Leaving  his  attendant  gentlemen  in  the  ante-cham- 
ber, Albornoz  was  ushered  into  the  apartment  of  the 
Signora  Cesarini.  In  person,  the  Cardinal  was  about 
the  middle  height ;  the  dark  complexion  of  Spain  had 
faded  by  thought,  and  the  wear  of  ambitious  schemes, 
into  a  sallow  but  hardy  hue ;  his  brow  was  deeply 
furrowed,  and  though  not  yet  past  the  prime  of  life, 
Albornoz  might  seem  to  have  entered  age,  but  for  the 
firmness  of  his  step,  the  slender  elasticity  of  his  frame, 
and  an  eye  which  had  acquired  calmness  and  depth 
from  thought,  without  losing  any  of  the  brilliancy  of 
youth. 

"  Beautiful  Signora,"  said  the  Cardinal,  bending 
over  the  hand  of  the  Cesarini  with  a  grace  which  be- 
tokened more  of  the  prince  than  of  the  priest ;  "  the 
commands  of  his  Holiness  have  detained  me,  I  fear, 
beyond  the  hour  in  which  you  vouchsafed  to  appoint 
my  homage,  but  my  heart  has  been  with  you  since 
we  parted." 

"  The  Cardinal  d' Albornoz,"  replied  the  Signora, 
gently  withdrawing  her  hand,  and  seating  herself, 
"  has  so  many  demands  on  his  time,  from  the  duties 
of  his  rank  and  renown,  that  methinks  to  divert  his 
attention  for  a  few  moments  to  less  noble  thoughts  is 
a  kind  of  treason  to  his  fame." 

"  Ah,  Lady,"  replied  the  Cardinal,  "  never  was  my 
ambition  so  nobly  directed  as  it  is  now.  And  it  were 

my  account,"  said  he;  "you  perceive  how  I  have  invested 
your  money."  The  Pope  embraced  him,  and  gave  him  no 
further  trouble  about  his  accounts. 


432  RIENZI 

a  prouder  lot  to  be  at  thy  feet  than  on  the  throne  of 
St.  Peter." 

A  momentary  blush  passed  over  the  cheek  of 
the  Signora,  yet  it  seemed  the  blush  of  indigna- 
tion as  much  as  of  vanity ;  it  was  succeeded  by 
an  extreme  paleness.  She  paused  before  she  re- 
plied ;  and  then  fixing  her  large  and  haughty  eyes 
on  the  enamoured  Spaniard,  she  said,  in  a  low 
voice, 

"  My  Lord  Cardinal,  I  do  not  affect  to  misunder- 
stand your  words;  neither  d"o  I  place  them  to  the  ac- 
count of  a  general  gallantry.  I  am  vain  enough  to  be- 
lieve you  imagine  you  speak  truly  when  you  say  you 
love  me." 

"  Imagine !  "  echoed  the  Spaniard. 

"  Listen  to  me,"  continued  the  Signora.  "  She 
whom  the  Cardinal  Albornoz  honours  with  his  love 
has  a  right  to  demand  of  him  its  proofs.  In  the  papal 
court,  whose  power  like  his  ? — I  require  you  to  exer- 
cise it  for  me." 

"  Speak,  dearest  Lady ;  have  your  estates  been 
seized  by  the  barbarians  of  these  lawless  times  ?  Hath 
any  dared  to  injure  you?  Lands  and  titles,  are  these 
thy  wish? — my  power  is  thy  slave." 

"  Cardinal,  no !  there  is  one  thing  dearer  to  an 
Italian  and  a  woman  than  wealth  or  station — it  is  re- 
venge !  " 

The  Cardinal  drew  back  from  the  flashing  eye  that 
was  bent  upon  him,  but  the  spirit  of  her  speech 
touched  a  congenial  chord. 

"  There,"  said  he,  after  a  little  hesitation,  "  there 
spake  high  descent.  Revenge  is  the  luxury  of  the 
well-born.  Let  serfs  and  churls  forgive  an  injury. 
Proceed,  Lady." 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES        433 

"  Hast  them  heard  the  last  news  from  Rome  ? " 
asked  the  Signora. 

"  Surely,"  replied  the  Cardinal,  in  some  surprise, 
"  we  were  poor  statesmen  to  be  ignorant  of  the  condi- 
tion of  the  capital  of  the  papal  dominions ;  and  my 
heart  mourns  for  that  unfortunate  city.  But  where- 
fore wouldst  thou  question  me  of  Rome  ? — thou  art — " 

"  Roman !  Know,  my  Lord,  that  I  have  a  purpose 
in  calling  myself  of  Naples.  To  your  discretion  I  in- 
trust my  secret — I  am  of  Rome !  Tell  me  of  her 
state." 

"  Fairest  one,"  returned  the  Cardinal,  "  I  should 
have  known  that  that  brow  and  presence  were  not  of 
the  light  Campania.  My  reason  should  have  told  me 
that  they  bore  the  stamp  of  the  Empress  of  the  World. 
The  state  of  Rome,"  continued  Albornoz,  in  a  graver 
tone,  "  is  briefly  told.  Thou  knowest  that  after  the 
fall  of  the  able  but  insolent  Rienzi,  Pepin,  count  of 
Minorbino,  (a  creature  of  Montreal's,)  who  had  as- 
sisted in  expelling  him,  would  have  betrayed  Rome 
to  Montreal, — but  he  was  neither  strong  enough  nor 
wise  enough,  and  the  Barons  chased  him  as  he  had 
chased  the  Tribune.  Some  time  afterwards  a  new 
demagogue,  John  Cerroni,  was  installed  in  the  Capitol. 
He  once  more  expelled  the  nobles ;  new  revolutions 
ensued — the  Barons  were  recalled.  The  weak  suc- 
cessor of  Rienzi  summoned  the  people  to  arms — in 
vain :  in  terror  and  despair  he  abdicated  his  power,  and 
left  the  city  a  prey  to  the  interminable  feuds  of  the 
Orsini,  the  Colonna,  and  the  Savelli." 

"  Thus  much  I  know,  my  Lord ;  but  when  his  Holi- 
ness succeeded  to  the  chair  of  Clement  VI. " 

"  Then,"  said  Albornoz,  and  a  slight  frown  dark- 
ened his  sallow  brow,  "  then  came  the  blacker  part  of 
28 


434  RIENZI 

the  history.  Two  senators  were  elected  in  concert  by 
the  Pope." 

"  Their  names  ?  " 

"  Bertoldo  Orsini,  and  one  of  the  Colonna.  A  few 
weeks  afterwards,  the  high  price  of  provisions  stung 
the  rascal  stomachs  of  the  mob — they  rose,  they  clam- 
oured, they  armed,  they  besieged  the  Capitol " 

"  Well,  well,"  cried  the  Signora,  clasping  her  hands, 
and  betokening  in  every  feature  her  interest  in  the 
narration. 

"  Colonna  only  escaped  death  by  a  vile  disguise ; 
Bertoldo  Orsini  was  stoned." 

"  Stoned  ! — there  fell  one  !  " 

"  Yes,  Lady,  one  of  a  great  house ;  the  least  drop 
of  whose  blood  were  worth  an  ocean  of  plebeian  pud- 
dle. At  present,  all  is  disorder,  misrule,  anarchy  at 
Rome.  The  contests  of  the  nobles  shake  the  city  to 
the  centre ;  and  prince  and  people,  wearied  of  so  many 
experiments  to  establish  a  government,  have  now  no 
governor  but  the  fear  of  the  sword.  Such,  fair  madam, 
is  the  state  of  Rome.  Sigh  not,  it  occupies  now  our 
care.  It  shall  be  remedied;  and  I,  madam,  may  be 
the  happy  instrument  of  restoring  peace  to  your  native 
city." 

"  There  is  but  one  way  of  restoring  peace  to  Rome," 
answered  the  Signora,  abruptly,  "  and  that  is — The 
restoration  of  Rienzi !  " 

The  Cardinal  started.  "  Madam,"  said  he,  "  do  I 
hear  aright? — are  you  not  nobly  born? — can  you  de- 
sire the  rise  of  a  plebeian  ?  Did  you  not  speak  of  re- 
venge, and  now  you  ask  for  mercy  ?  " 

"  Lord  Cardinal,"  said  the  beautiful  Signora,  ear- 
nestly, "  I  do  not  ask  for  mercy :  such  a  word  is  not 
for  the  lips  of  one  who  demands  justice.  Nobly  born 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES        435 

I  am — ay,  and  from  a  stock  to  whose  long  descent 
from  the  patricians  of  ancient  Rome  the  high  line  of 
Aragon  itself  would  be  of  yesterday.  Nay,  I  would 
not  offend  you,  Monsignore ;  your  greatness  is  not  bor- 
rowed from  pedigrees  and  tombstones — your  great- 
ness is  your  own  achieving :  would  you  speak  honestly, 
my  lord,  you  would  own  that  you  are  proud  only  of 
your  own  laurels,  and  that,  in  your  heart,  you  laugh  at 
the  stately  fools  who  trick  themselves  out  in  the 
mouldering  finery  of  the  dead !  " 

"  Muse !  prophetess !  you  speak  aright,"  said  the 
high-spirited  Cardinal,  with  unwonted  energy;  "and 
your  voice  is  like  that  of  the  Fame  I  dreamed  of  in  my 
youth.  Speak  on,  speak  ever !  " 

"  Such,"  continued  the  Signora,  "  such  as  your 
pride,  is  the  just  pride  of  Rienzi.  Proud  that  he  is 
the  workman  of  his  own  great  renown.  In  such  as 
the  Tribune  of  Rome  we  acknowledge  the  founders 
of  noble  lineage.  Ancestry  makes  not  them — they 
make  ancestry.  Enough  of  this.  I  am  of  noble  race, 
it  is  true ;  but  my  house,  and  those  of  many,  have  been 
crushed  and  broken  beneath  the  yoke  of  the  Orsini 
and  Colonna — it  is  against  them  I  desire  revenge. 
But  I  am  better  than  an  Italian  lady — I  am  a  Roman 
woman — I  weep  tears  of  blood  for  the  disorders  of 
my  unhappy  country.  I  mourn  that  even  you,  my 
lord, — yes,  that  a  barbarian,  however  eminent  and 
however  great,  should  mourn  for  Rome.  I  desire  to 
restore  her  fortunes." 

"  But  Rienzi  would  only  restore  his  own." 

"  Not  so,  my  Lord  Cardinal ;  not  so.  Ambitious 
and  proud  he  may  be — great  soyls  are  so — but  he  has 
never  had  one  wish  divorced  from  the  welfare  of  Rome. 
But  put  aside  all  thought  of  his  interests — it  is  not 


436  RIENZI 

of  these  I  speak.  You  desire  to  re-establish  the  papal 
power  in  Rome.  Your  senators  have  failed  to  do  it. 
Demagogues  fail — Rienzi  alone  can  succeed ;  he  alone 
can  command  the  turbulent  passions  of  the  Barons — 
he  alone  can  sway  the  capricious  and  fickle  mob.  Re- 
lease, restore  Rienzi,  and  through  Rienzi  the  Pope  re- 
gains Rome !  " 

The  Cardinal  did  not  answer  for  some  moments. 
Buried  as  in  a  reverie,  he  sate  motionless,  shading  his 
face  with  his  hand.  Perhaps  he  secretly  owned  there 
was  a  wiser  policy  in  the  suggestions  of  the  Signora 
than  he  cared  openly  to  confess.  Lifting  his  head,  at 
length,  from  his  bosom,  he  fixed  his  eyes  upon  the 
Signora's  watchful  countenance,  and,  with  a  forced 
smile,  said, 

"  Pardon  me,  madam ;  but  while  we  play  the  poli- 
ticians, forget  not  that  I  am  thy  adorer.  Sagacious 
may  be  thy  counsels,  yet  wherefore  are  they  urged? 
Why  this  anxious  interest  for  Rienzi?  If  by  releasing 
him  the  Church  may  gain  an  ally,  am  I  sure  that  Giles 
d'Albornoz  will  not  raise  a  rival  ?  " 

"  My  lord,"  said  the  Signora,  half  rising,  "  you  are 
my  suitor;  but  your  rank  does  not  tempt  me — your 
gold  cannot  buy.  If  you  love  me,  I  have  a  right  to 
command  your  services  to  whatsoever  task  I  would 
require — it  is  the  law  of  chivalry.  If  ever  I  yield  to 
the  addresses  of  mortal  lover,  it  will  be  to  the  man 
who  restores  to  my  native  land  her  hero  and  her 
saviour." 

"  Fair  patriot,"  said  the  Cardinal,  "  your  words  en- 
courage my  hope,  yet  they  half  damp  my  ambition ; 
for  fain  would  I  desir%e  that  love  and  not  service  should 
alone  give  me  the  treasure  that  I  ask.  But  hear  me, 
sweet  lady;  you  overrate  my  power:  I  cannot  deliver 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES        437 

Rienzi — he  is  accused  of  rebellion,  he  is  excommuni- 
cated for  heresy.  His  acquittal  rests  with  himself." 

"  You  can  procure  his  trial  ?  " 

"  Perhaps,  Lady." 

"  That  is  his  acquittal.  And  a  private  audience  of 
his  Holiness  ?  " 

"  Doubtless." 

"  That  is  his  restoration  !     Behold  all  I  ask !  " 

"  And  then,  sweet  Roman,  it  will  be  mine  to  ask," 
said  the  Cardinal,  passionately,  dropping  on  his  knee, 
and  taking  the  Signora's  hand.  For  one  moment, 
that  proud  lady  felt  that  she  was  woman — she  blushed, 
she-  trembled :  but  it  was  not  (could  the  Cardinal  have 
read  that  heart)  with  passion  or  with  weakness ;  it  was 
with  terror  and  with  shame.  Passively  she  surren- 
dered her  hand  to  the  Cardinal,  who  covered  it  with 
kisses. 

"  Thus  inspired,"  said  Albornoz,  rising,  "  I  will  not 
doubt  of  success.  To-morrow  I  wait  on  thee  again." 

He  pressed  her  hand  to  his  heart — the  lady  felt  it 
not.  He  sighed  his  farewell — she  did  not  hear  it. 
Lingeringly  he  gazed;  and  slowly  he  departed.  But 
it  was  some  moments  before,  recalled  to  herself,  the 
Signora  felt  that  she  was  alone. 

"  Alone !  "  she  cried,  half  aloud,  and  with  wild  em- 
phasis— "  alone !  Oh,  what  have  I  undergone — what 
have  I  said !  Unfaithful  even  in  thought  to  him!  Oh, 
never !  never !  I  that  have  felt  the  kiss  of  his  hallow- 
ing lips — that  have  slept  on  his  kingly  heart — I ! — 
holy  Mother,  befriend  and  strengthen  me !  "  she  con- 
tinued, as,  weeping  bitterly,  she  sunk  upon  her  knees ; 
and  for  some  moments  she  was  lost  in  prayer.  Then, 
rising  composed,  but  deadly  pale,  and  with  the  tears 
rolling  heavily  down  her  cheeks,  the  Signora  passed 


438  RIENZI 

slowly  to  the  casement ;  she  threw  it  open,  and  bent 
forward;  the  air  of  the  declining  day  came  softly  on 
her  temples;  it  cooled,  it  mitigated,  the  fever  that 
preyed  within.  Dark  and  huge  before  her  frowned, 
in  its  gloomy  shadow,  the  tower  in  which  Rienzi  was 
confined ;  she  gazed  at  it  long  and  wistfully,  and  then, 
turning  away,  drew  from  the  folds  of  her  robe  a  small 
and  sharp  dagger.  "  Let  me  save  him  for  glory !  " 
she  murmured ;  "  and  this  shall  save  me  from  dis- 
honour !  " 


CHAPTER   III 

HOLY     MEN. SAGACIOUS     DELIBERATIONS. — JUST     RE' 

SOLVES. AND    SORDID    MOTIVES   TO    ALL 

Enamoured  of  the  beauty,  and  almost  equally  so  of 
the  lofty  spirit,  of  the  Signora  Cesarini,  as  was  the 
warlike  Cardinal  of  Spain,  love  with  him  was  not  so 
master  a  passion  as  that  ambition  of  complete  success 
in  all  the  active  designs  of  life,  which  had  hitherto 
animated  his  character  and  signalised  his  career. 
Musing,  as  he  left  the  Signora,  on  her  wish  for  the 
restoration  of  the  Roman  Tribune,  his  experienced 
and  profound  intellect  ran  swiftly  through  whatever 
advantages  to  his  own  political  designs  might  result 
from  that  restoration.  We  have  seen  that  it  was  the 
intention  of  the  new  Pontiff  to  attempt  the  recovery 
of  the  patrimonial  territories,  now  torn  from  him  by  the 
gripe  of  able  and  disaffected  tyrants.  With  this  view, 
a  military  force  was  already  in  preparation,  and  the 
Cardinal  was  already  secretly  nominated  the  chief. 
But  the  force  was  very  inadequate  to  the  enterprise ; 
and  Albornoz  depended  much  upon  the  moral  strength 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES       439 

of  the  cause  in  bringing  recruits  to  his  standard  in  his 
progress  through  the  Italian  states.  The  wonderful 
rise  of  Rienzi  had  excited  an  extraordinary  enthusiasm 
in  his  favour  through  all  the  free  populations  of  Italy. 
And  this  had  been  yet  more  kindled  and  inflamed  by 
the  influential  eloquence  of  Petrarch,  who,  at  that  time, 
possessed  of  a  power  greater  than  ever,  before  or  since, 
(not  even  excepting  the  Sage  of  Ferney,)  wielded  by 
a  single  literary  man,  had  put  forth  his  boldest  genius 
in  behalf  of  the  Roman  Tribune.  Such  a  companion 
as  Rienzi  in  the  camp  of  the  Cardinal  might  be  a  mag- 
net of  attraction  to  the  youth  and  enterprise  of  Italy. 
On  nearing  Rome,  he  might  himself  judge  how  far  it 
would  be  advisable  to  reinstate  Rienzi  as  a  delegate  of 
the  papal  power.  And,  in  the  meanwhile,  the  Ro- 
man's .influence  might  be  serviceable,  whether  to  awe 
the  rebellious  nobles  or  conciliate  the  stubborn  people. 
On  the  other  hand,  the  Cardinal  was  shrewd  enough 
to  perceive  that  no  possible  good  could  arise  from 
Rienzi's  present  confinement.  With  every  month  it 
excited  deeper  and  more  universal  sympathy.  To  his 
lonely  dungeon  turned  half  the  hearts  of  republican 
Italy.  Literature  had  leagued  its  new  and  sudden, 
and  therefore  mighty  and  even  disproportioned,  power 
with  his  cause ;  and  the  Pope,  without  daring  to  be 
his  judge,  incurred  the  odium  of  being  his  gaoler.  "  A 
popular  prisoner,"  said  the  sagacious  Cardinal  to  him- 
self, "  is  the  most  dangerous  of  guests.  Restore  him 
as  your  servant,  or  destroy  him  as  your  foe !  In  this 
case  I  see  no  alternative  but  acquittal  or  the  knife ! " 
In  these  reflections  that  able  plotter,  deep  in  the 
Machiavelism  of  the  age,  divorced  the  lover  from  the 
statesman. 

Recurring  now  to  the  former  character,  he  felt  some 


440  RIENZI 

disagreeable  and  uneasy  forebodings  at  the  earnest  in- 
terest of  his  mistress.  Fain  would  he  have  attributed, 
either  to  some  fantasy  of  patriotism  or  some  purpose 
of  revenge,  the  anxiety  of  the  Cesarini ;  and  there  wa& 
much  in  her  stern  and  haughty  character  which  fa- 
voured that  belief.  But  he  was  forced  to  acknowledge 
to  himself  some  jealous  apprehension  of  a  sinister  and 
latent  motive,  which  touched  his  vanity  and  alarmed 
his  love.  "  Howbeit,"  he  thought,  as  he  turned  from 
his  unwilling  fear,  "  I  can  play  with  her  at  her  own 
weapons ;  I  can  obtain  the  release  of  Rienzi,  and  claim 
my  reward.  If  denied,  the  hand  that  opened  the 
dungeon  can  again  rivet  the  chain.  In  her  anxiety 
is  my  power !  " 

These  thoughts  the  Cardinal  was  still  revolving  in 
his  palace,  when  he  was  suddenly  summoned  to  attend 
the  Pontiff. 

The  pontifical  palace  no  longer  exhibited  the  gor- 
geous yet  graceful  luxury  of  Clement  VI.,  and  the  sar- 
castic Cardinal  smiled  to  himself  at  the  quiet  gloom  of 
the  ante-chambers.  "  He  thinks  to  set  an  example — 
this  poor  native  of  Limoges!"  thought  Albornoz; 
"  and  has  but  the  mortification  of  finding  himself 
eclipsed  by  the  poorest  bishop.  He  humbles  himself, 
and  fancies  that  the  humility  will  be  contagious." 

His  Holiness  was  seated  before  a  small  and  rude 
table  bestrewed  with  papers,  his  face  buried  in  his 
hands ;  the  room  was  simply  furnished,  and  in  a  small 
niche  beside  the  casement  was  an  ivory  crucifix ;  be- 
low, the  death's  head  and  cross-bones,  which  most 
monks  then  introduced  with  a  purpose  similar  to  that 
of  the  ancients  by  the  like  ornaments, — mementos  of 
the  shortness  of  life,  and  therefore  admonitions  to 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES        441 

make  the  best  of  it !  On  the  ground  lay  a  map  of  the 
Patrimonial  Territory,  with  the  fortresses  in  especial, 
distinctly  and  prominently  marked.  The  Pope  gently 
lifted  up  his  head  as  the  Cardinal  was  announced,  and 
discovered  a  plain  but  sensible  and  somewhat  inter- 
esting countenance.  "  My  son ! "  said  he,  with  a 
kindly  courtesy  to  the  lowly  salutation  of  the  proud 
Spaniard,  "  scarcely  wouldst  thou  imagine,  after  our 
long  conference  this  morning,  that  new  cares  would 
so  soon  demand  the  assistance  of  thy  counsels.  Verily, 
the  wreath  of  thorns  stings  sharp  under  the  triple 
crown;  and  I  sometimes  long  for  the  quiet  abode  of 
my  old  professor's  chair  in  Toulouse :  my  station  is  of 
pain  and  of  toil." 

"  God  tempers  the  wind  to  the  shorn  lamb,"  ob- 
served the  Cardinal,  with  pious  and  compassionate 
gravity. 

Innocent  could  scarcely  refrain  a  smile  as  he  replied, 
"  The  lamb  that  carries  the  cross  must  have  the 
strength  of  the  lion.  Since  we  parted,  my  son,  I  have 
had  painful  intelligence ;  our  couriers  have  arrived 
from  the  Campagna — the  heathen  rage  furiously — the 
force  of  John  di  Vico  has  augmented  fearfully,  and  the 
most  redoubted  adventurer  of  Europe  has  enlisted 
under  his  banner." 

"  Does  his  Holiness,"  cried  the  Cardinal,  anxiously, 
"  speak  of  Fra  Moreale,  the  Knight  of  St.  John  ?  " 

"  Of  no  less  a  warrior,"  returned  the  Pontiff.  "  I 
dread  the  vast  ambition  of  that  wild  adventurer." 

"  Your  Holiness  hath  cause,"  said  the  Cardinal, 
drily. 

"  Some  letters  of  his  have  fallen  into  the  hands  of 
the  servants  of  the  Church ;  they  are  here :  read  them, 
my  son." 


442  RIENZI 

Albornoz  received  and  deliberately  scanned  the  let- 
ters ;  this  done,  he  replaced  them  on  the  table,  and  re- 
mained for  a  few  moments  silent  and  absorbed. 

"  What  think  you,  my  son  ? "  said  the  Pope,  at 
length,  with  an  impatient  and  even  peevish  tone. 

"  I  think  that,  with  Montreal's  hot  genius  and  John 
di  Vice's  frigid  villany,  your  Holiness  may  live  to 
envy,  if  not  the  quiet,  at  least  the  revenue,  of  the 
Professor's  chair." 

"  How,  Cardinal !  "  said  the  Pope,  hastily,  and  with 
an  angry  flush  on  his  pale  brow. 

The  Cardinal  quietly  proceeded : 

"  By  these  letters  it  seems  that  Montreal  has  written 
to  all  the  commanders  of  free  lances  throughout  Italy, 
offering  the  highest  pay  of  a  soldier  to  every  man  who 
will  join  his  standard,  combined  with  the  richest  plun- 
der of  a  brigand.  He  meditates  great  schemes  then ! 
— I  know  the  man  !  " 

"  Well, — and  our  course  ?  " 

"  Is  plain,"  said  the  Cardinal,  loftily,  and  with  an 
eye  that  flashed  with  a  soldier's  fire.  "  Not  a  moment 
is  to  be  lost !  Thy  son  should  at  once  take  the  field. 
Up  with  the  Banner  of  the  Church !  " 

"  But  are  we  strong  enough  ?  our  numbers  are  few. 
Zeal  slackens !  the  piety  of  the  Baldwins  is  no  more !  " 

"  Your  Holiness  knows  well,"  said  the  Cardinal, 
"  that  for  the  multitude  of  men  there  are  two  watch- 
words of  war — Liberty  and  Religion.  If  Religion  be- 
gins to  fail,  we  must  employ  the  profaner  word.  '  Up 
with  the  Banner  of  the  Church — and  down  with  the 
tyrants ! '  We  will  proclaim  equal  laws  and  free  gov- 
ernment;* and,  God  willing,  our  camp  shall  prosper 

*  In  correcting  the  pages  of  this  work,  in  the  year  1847  .  .  . 
strange  coincidences  between  the  present  policy  of  the  Ro- 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES        443 

better  with  those  promises  than  the  tents  of  Montreal 
with  the  more  vulgar  shout  of '  Pay  and  Rapine.'  " 

"  Giles  d'Albornoz,"  said  the  Pope,  emphatically ; 
and,  warmed  by  the  spirit  of  the  Cardinal,  he  dropped 
the  wonted  etiquette  of  the  phrase,  "  I  trust  implicitly 
to  you.  Now  the  right  hand  of  the  Church — hereafter, 
perhaps,  its  head.  Too  well  I  feel  that  the  lot  has 
fallen  on  a  lowly  place.  My  successor  must  requite 
my  deficiencies." 

No  changing  hue,  no  brightening  glance,  betrayed 
to  the  searching  eye  of  the  Pope  whatever  emotion 
these  words  had  called  up  in  the  breast  of  the  ambi- 
tious Cardinal.  He  bowed  his  proud  head  humbly  as 
he  answered,  "  Pray  Heaven  that  Innocent  VI.  may 
long  live  to  guide  the  Church  to  glory.  For  Giles 
d'Albornoz,  less  priest  than  soldier,  the  din  of  the 
camp,  the  breath  of  the  war-steed,  suggest  the  only 
aspirations  which  he  ever  dares  indulge.  But  has 
your  Floliness  imparted  to  your  servant  all  that " 

"  Nay/'  interrupted  Innocent,  "  I  have  yet  intelli- 
gence equally  ominous.  This  John  di  Vico, — pest  go 
with  him ! — who  still  styles  himself  (the  excommuni- 
cated ruffian !)  Prefect  of  Rome,  has  so  filled  that  un- 
happy city  with  his  emissaries,  that  we  have  well-nigh 
lost  the  seat  of  the  Apostle.  Rome,  long  in  anarchy, 
seems  now  in  open  rebellion.  The  nobles — sons  of 
Belial! — it  is  true,  are  once  more  humbled;  but  how? 
— One  Baroncelli  a  new  demagogue,  the  fiercest — the 
most  bloody  that  the  fiend  ever  helped — has  arisen — 
is  invested  by  the  mob  with  power,  and  uses  it  to 
butcher  the  people  and  insult  the  Pontiff.  Wearied  of 

man  Church  and  that  by  which  in  the  I4th  century  it  recov- 
ered both  spiritual  and  temporal  power  cannot  fail  to  suggest 
themselves. 


444  RIENZI 

the  crimes  of  this  man,  (which  are  not  even  decorated 
by  ability,)  the  shout  of  the  people  day  and  night 
along  the  streets  is  for  '  Rienzi  the  Tribune.' " 

"  Ha !  "  said  the  Cardinal,  "  Rienzi's  faults  then  are 
forgotten  in  Rome,  and  there  is  felt  for  him  the  same 
enthusiasm  in  that  city  as  in  the  rest  of  Italy  ?  " 

"  Alas !  it  is  so." 

"  It  is  well,  I  have  thought  of  this :  Rienzi  can  ac- 
company my  progress " 

"  My  son !  the  rebel,  the  heretic " 

"  By  your  Holiness's  absolution  will  become  a 
quiet  subject  and  orthodox  Catholic,"  said  Albornoz. 
"  Men  are  good  or  bad  as  they  suit  our  purpose. 
What  matters  a  virtue  that  is  useless,  or  a  crime  that 
is  useful,  to  us?  The  army  of  the  Church  proceeds 
against  tyrants — it  proclaims  everywhere  to  the  Papal 
towns  the  restoration  of  their  popular  constitutions. 
Sees  not  your  Holines's  that  the  acquittal  of  Rienzi,  the 
popular  darling,  will  be  hailed  an  earnest  of  your  sin- 
cerity?— sees  not  your  Holiness  that  his  name  will 
fight  for  us? — sees  not  your  Holiness  that  the  great 
demagogue  Rienzi  must  be  used  to  extinguish  the 
little  demagogue  Baroncelli?  We  must  regain  the 
Romans,  whether  of  the  city  or  whether  in  the  seven 
towns  of  John  di  Vico.  When  they  hear  Rienzi  is  in 
our  camp,  trust  me,  we  shall  have  a  multitude  of  de- 
serters from  the  tyrants — trust  me,  we  shall  hear  no 
more  of  Baroncelli." 

"  Ever  sagacious,"  said  the  Pope,  musingly ;  "  it  is 
true  we  can  use  this  man :  but  with  caution.  His 
genius  is  formidable " 

"  And  therefore  must  be  conciliated ;  if  we  acquit, 
we  must  make  him  ours.  My  experience  has  taught 
me  this,  when  you  cannot  slay  a  demagogue  by  law, 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES        445 

crush  him  with  honours.  He  must  be  no  longer  Trib- 
une of  the  People.  Give  him  the  Patrician  title  of 
Senator,  and  he  is  then  the  Lieutenant  of  the  Pope !  " 

"  I  will  see  to  this,  my  son — your  suggestions  please, 
but  alarm  me :  he  shall  at  least  be  examined ; — but  if 
found  a  heretic " 

"  Should,  I  humbly  advise,  be  declared  a  saint." 

The  Pope  bent  his  brow  for  a  moment,  but  the  effort 
was  too  much  for  him,  and- after  a  moment's  struggle, 
he  fairly  laughed  aloud. 

"  Go  to,  my  son,"  said  he,  affectionately  patting  the 
Cardinal's  sallow  cheek.  "  Go  to. — If  the  world  heard 
thee,  what  would  it  say  ?  " 

"  That  Giles  d'Albornoz  had  just  enough  religion  to 
remember  that  the  State  is  a  Church,  but  not  too  much 
to  forget  that  the  Church  is  a  State." 

With  these  words  the  conference  ended.  That  very 
evening  the  Pope  decreed  that  Rienzi  should  be  per- 
mitted the  trial  he  had  demanded. 


CHAPTER    IV 

THE    LADY    AND    THE    PAGE 

It  wanted  three  hours  of  midnight,  when  Albornoz, 
resuming  his  character  of  gallant,  despatched  to  the 
Signora  Cesarini  the  following  billet. 

"  Your  commands  are  obeyed.  Rienzi  will  receive 
an  examination  on  his  faith.  It  is  well  that  he  should 
be  prepared.  It  may  suit  your  purpose,  as  to  which 
I  am  so  faintly  enlightened,  to  appear  to  the  prisoner 
what  you  are — the  obtainer  of  this  grace.  See  how 
implicitly  one  noble  heart  can  trust  another!  I  send 


446  RIENZI 

by  the  bearer  an  order  that  will  admit  one  of  your 
servitors  to  the  prisoner's  cell.  Be  it,  if  you  will,  your 
task  to  announce  to  him  the  new  crisis  of  his  fate. 
Ah !  madam,  may  fortune  be  as  favourable  to  me,  and 
grant  me  the  same  intercessor — from  thy  lips  my  sen- 
tence is  to  come." 

As  Albornoz  finished  this  epistle,  he  summoned  his 
confidential  attendant,  a  Spanish  gentleman,  who  saw 
nothing  in  his  noble  birth  that  should  prevent  his  ful- 
filling the  various  behests  of  the  Cardinal. 

"  Alvarez,"  said  he,  "  these  to  the  Signora  Cesarini 
by  another  hand ;  thou  art  unknown  to  her  household. 
Repair  to  the  state  tower ;  this  to  the  Governor  admits 
thee.  Mark  who  is  admitted  to  the  prisoner  Cola  di 
Rienzi.  Know  his  name,  examine  whence  he  comes. 
Be  keen,  Alvarez.  Learn  by  what  motive  the  Cesar- 
ini interests  herself  in  the  prisoner's  fate.  All  too  of 
herself,  birth,  fortunes,  lineage,  would  be  welcome  in- 
telligence. Thou  comprehendest  me  ?  It  is  well.  One 
caution — thou  hast  no  mission  from,  no  connection 
with,  me.  Thou  art  an  officer  of  the  prison,  or  of  the 
Pope, — what  thou  wilt.  Give  me  the  rosary ;  light  the 
lamp  before  the  crucifix ;  place  yon  hair-shirt  beneath 
those  arms.  I  would  have  it  appear  as  if  meant  to  be 
hidden !  Tell  Gomez  that  the  Dominican  preacher  is 
to  be  admitted." 

"  Those  friars  have  zeal,"  continued  the  Cardinal  to 
himself,  as,  after  executing  his  orders,  Alvarez  with- 
drew. "  They  would  burn  a  man — but  only  on  the 
Bible  ?  They  are  worth  conciliating,  if  the  triple  crown 
be  really  worth  the  winning;  were  it  mine,  I  would 
add  the  eagle's  plume  to  it." 

And  plunged  into  the  aspiring  future,  this  bold  man 
forgot  even  the  object  of  his  passion.  In  real  life, 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES        447 

after  a  certain  age,  ambitious  men  love  indeed ;  but  it 
is  only  as  an  interlude.  And  indeed  with  most  men, 
life  has  more  absorbing  though  not  more  frequent  con- 
cerns than  those  of  love.  Love  is  the  business  of  the 
idle,  but  the  idleness  of  the  busy. 

The  Cesarini  was  alone  when  the  Cardinal's  mes- 
senger arrived,  and  he  was  scarcely  dismissed  with  a 
few  lines,  expressive  of  a  gratitude  which  seemed  to 
bear  down  all  those  guards  with  which  the  coldness 
of  the  Signora  usually  fenced  her  pride,  before  the 
page  Angelo  was  summoned  to  her  presence. 

The  room  was  dark  with  the  shades  of  the  gathering 
night  when  the  youth  entered,  and  he  discerned  but 
dimly  the  outline  of  the  Signora's  stately  form ;  but 
by  the  tone  of  her  voice,  he  perceived  that  she  was 
deeply  agitated. 

"  Angelo,"  said  she,  as  he  approached,  "  Angelo — " 
and  her  voice  failed  her.  She  paused  as  for  breath 
and  again  proceeded,  "  You  alone  have  served  us  faith- 
fully; you  alone  shared  our  escape,  our  wanderings, 
our  exile — you  alone  know  my  secret — you  of  my 
train  alone  are  Roman ! — Roman !  it  was  once  a  great 
name.  Angelo,  the  name  has  fallen ;  but  it  is  only 
because  the  nature  of  the  Roman  Race  fell  first. 
Haughty  they  are,  but  fickle ;  fierce,  but  dastard ; 
vehement  in  promise,  but  rotten  in  their  faith.  You 
are  a  Roman,  and  though  I  have  proved  your  truth, 
your  very  birth  makes  me  afraid  of  falsehood." 

"  Madam,"  said  the  page,  "  I  was  but  a  child  when 
you  admitted  me  into  your  service,  and  I  am  yet  only 
on  the  verge  of  manhood.  But  boy  though  I  yet  be, 
I  would  brave  the  stoutest  lance  of  knight  or  free- 
booter, in  defence  of  the  faith  of  Angelo  Villani,  to 
his  liege  Lady  and  his  native  land." 


448  RiENZI 

"  Alas !  alas !  "  said  the  Signora,  bitterly,  "  such  have 
been  the  words  of  thousands  of  thy  race.  What  have 
been  their  deeds?  But  I  will  trust  thee,  as  I  have 
trusted  ever.  I  know  that  thou  art  covetous  of  honour, 
that  thou  hast  youth's  comely  and  bright  ambition." 

"  I  am  an  orphan  and  a  bastard,"  said  Angelo,  blunt- 
ly !  "  And  circumstance  stings  me  sharply  on  to 
action ;  I  would  win  my  own  name." 

"  Thou  shalt,"  said  the  Signora.  "  We  shall  live  yet 
to  reward  thee.  And  now  be  quick.  Bring  hither  one 
of  thy  page's  suits, — mantle  and  head-gear.  Quick,  I 
say,  and  whisper  not  to  a  soul  what  I  have  asked  of 
thee." 


CHAPTER    V 

THE    INMATE    OF   THE   TOWER 

The  night  slowly  advanced,  and  in  the  highest  cham- 
ber of  that  dark  and  rugged  tower  which  fronted  the 
windows  of  the  Cesarini's  palace  sate  a  solitary  pris- 
oner. A  single  lamp  burned  before  him  on  a  table  of 
stone,  and  threw  its  rays  over  an  open  Bible  ;  and  those 
stern  but  fantastic  legends  of  the  prowess  of  ancient 
Rome,  which  the  genius  of  Livy  has  dignified  into 
history.*  A  chain  hung  pendant  from  the  vault  of  the 
tower,  and  confined  the  captive ;  but  so  as  to  leave  his 
limbs  at  sufficient  liberty  to  measure  at  will  the  greater 
part  of  the  cell.  Green  and  damp  were  the  mighty 
stones  of  the  walls,  and  through  a  narrow  aperture, 

"  Avea  libri  assai,  suo  Tito  Livio,  sue  storie  di  Roma,  la 
Bibbia  et  altri  libri  assai,  non  finava  di  studiare." — Vit.  di 
Col.  di  Rienzi,  lib.  ii.  cap.  13.  See  translation  to  motto  to 
Book  VII.,  p.  419. 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES        449 

high  out  of  reach,  came  the  moonlight,  and  slept  in 
long  shadow  over  the  rude  floor.  A  bed  at  one  corner 
completed  the  furniture  of  the  room.  Such  for  months 
had  been  the  abode  of  the  conqueror  of  the  haughtiest 
Barons,  and  the  luxurious  dictator  of  the  stateliest  city 
of  the  world ! 

Care,  and  travel,  and  time,  and  adversity  had 
wrought  their  change  in  the  person  of  Rienzi.  The 
proportions  of  his  frame  had  enlarged  from  the  com- 
pact strength  of  earlier  manhood,  the  clear  paleness 
of  his  cheek  was  bespread  with  a  hectic  and  deceitful 
glow.  Even  in  his  present  studies,  intent  as  they 
seemed,  and  genial  though  the  lecture  to  a  mind  en- 
thusiastic even  to  fanaticism,  his  eyes  could  not  rivet 
themselves  as  of  yore  steadily  to  the  page.  The  charm 
was  gone  from  the  letters.  Every  now  and  then  he 
moved  restlessly,  started,  re-settled  himself,  and  mut- 
tered broken  exclamations  like  a  man  in  an  anxious 
dream.  Anon,  his  gaze  impatiently  turned  upward, 
about,  around,  and  there  was  a  strange  and  wandering 
fire  in  those  large  deep  eyes,  which  might  have  thrilled 
the  beholder  with  a  vague  and  unaccountable  awe. 

Angelo  had  in  the  main  correctly  narrated  the  more 
recent  adventures  of  Rienzi  after  his  fall.  He  had 
first  with  Nina  and  Angelo  betaken  himself  to  Naples, 
and  found  a  fallacious  and  brief  favour  with  Louis, 
king  of  Hungary ;  that  harsh  but  honourable  monarch 
had  refused  to  yield  his  illustrious  guest  to  the  de- 
mands of  Clement,  but  had  plainly  declared  his  inabil- 
ity to  shelter  him  in  safety.  Maintaining  secret  inter- 
course with  his  partisans  at  Rome,  the  fugitive  then 
sought  a  refuge  with  the  Eremites,  sequestered  in  the 
lone  recesses  of  the  Monte  Maiella,  where  in  solitude 
and  thought  he  had  passed  a  whole  year,  save  the  time 
29 


450  RIENZI 

consumed  in  his  visit  to  and  return  from  Florence. 
Taking  advantage  of  the  Jubilee  in  Rome,  he  had  then, 
disguised  as  a  pilgrim,  traversed  the  vales  and  moun- 
tains still  rich  in  the  melancholy  ruins  of  ancient  Rome, 
and  entering  the  city,  his  restless  and  ambitious  spirit 
indulged  in  new  but  vain  conspiracies !  *  Excommuni- 
cated a  second  time  by  the  Cardinal  di  Ceccano,  and 
again  a  fugitive,  he  shook  the  dust  from  his  feet  as  he 
left  the  city,  and  raising  his  hands  towards  those  walls, 
in  which  are  yet  traced  the  witness  of  the  Tarquins, 
cried  aloud — "  Honoured  as  thy  prince — persecuted 
as  thy  victim — Rome,  Rome,  thou  shalt  yet  receive 
me  as  thy  conqueror !  " 

Still  disguised  as  a  pilgrim,  he  passed  unmolested 
through  Italy  into  the  Court  of  the  Emperor  Charles 
of  Bohemia,  where  the  page,  who  had  probably  wit- 
nessed, had  rightly  narrated,  his  reception.  It  is  doubt- 
ful, however,  whether  the  conduct  of  the  Emperor  had 
been  as  chivalrous  as  appears  by  Angelo's  relation, 
or  whether  he  had  not  delivered  Rienzi  to  the  Pontiff's 
emissaries.  At  all  events,  it  is  certain,  that  from 
Prague  to  Avignon,  the  path  of  the  fallen  Tribune  had 
been  as  one  triumph.  His  strange  adventures — his  un- 
broken spirit — the  new  power  that  Intellect  daily  and 
wonderfully  excited  over  the  minds  of  the  rising  gen- 
eration— the  eloquence  of  Petrarch,  and  the  common 
sympathy  of  the  vulgar  for  fallen  greatness, — all  con- 
spired to  make  Rienzi  the  hero  of  the  age.  Not  a 
town  through  which  he  passed  which  would  not  have 
risked  a  siege  for  his  protection — not  a  house  that 
would  not  have  sheltered  him — not  a  hand  that  would 
not  have  struck  in  his  defence.  Refusing  all  offers 
of  aid,  disdaining  all  occasion  of  escape,  inspired  by 
*  Rainald,  Ann.  1350,  N.  4,  E.  5. 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES        451 

his  indomitable  hope,  and  his  unalloyed  belief  in  the 
brightness  of  his  own  destinies,  the  Tribune  sought 
Avignon — and  found  a  dungeon ! 

These,  his  external  adventures,  are  briefly  and  easily 
told ;  but  who  shall  tell  what  passed  within  ? — who  nar- 
rate the  fearful  history  of  the  heart? — who  paint  the 
rapid  changes  of  emotion  and  of  thought — the  indig- 
nant grief — the  stern  dejection — the  haughty  disap- 
pointment that  saddened  while  it  never  destroyed  the 
resolve  of  that  great  soul?  Who  can  say  what  must 
have  been  endured,  what  meditated,  in  the  hermitage 
of  Maiella ; — on  the  lonely  hills  of  the  perished  empire 
it  had  been  his  dream  to  restore; — in  the  Courts  of 
Barbarian  Kings ; — and  above  all,  on  returning  obscure 
and  disguised,  amidst  the  crowds  of  the  Christian 
world,  to  the  seat  of  his  former  power?  What  ele- 
ments of  memory,  and  in  what  a  wild  and  fiery  brain ! 
What  reflections  to  be  conned  in  the  dungeons  of 
Avignon,  by  a  man  who  had  pushed  into  all  the  fervour 
of  fanaticism — four  passions,  a  single  one  of  which  has, 
in  excess,  sufficed  to  wreck  the  strongest  reason — 
passions,  which  in  themselves  it  is  most  difficult  to 
combine, — the  dreamer — the  aspirant — the  very  nym- 
pholept  of  Freedom,  yet  of  Power — of  Knowledge, 
yet  of  Religion ! 

•"  Ay,"  muttered  the  prisoner,  "  ay,  these  texts  are 
comforting — comforting.  The  righteous  are  not  al- 
ways oppressed."  With  a  long  sigh  he  deliberately 
put  aside  the  Bible,  kissed  it  with  great  reverence,  re- 
mained silent,  and  musing  for  some  minutes  ;  and  then 
as  a  slight  noise  was  heard  at  one  corner  of  the  cell, 
said  softly,  "  Ah,  my  friends,  my  comrades,  the  rats ! 
it  is  their  hour — I  am  glad  I  put  aside  the  bread  for 
them !  "  His  eye  brightened  as  it  now  detected  those 


452  RIENZI 

strange  and  unsocial  animals  venturing  forth  through 
a  hole  in  the  wall,  and  darkening  the  moonshine  on 
the  floor,  steal  fearlessly  towards  him.  He  flung  some 
fragments  of  bread  to  them,  and  for  some  moments 
watched  their  gambols  with  a  smile.  "  Manchino,  the 
white-faced  rascal !  he  beats  all  the  rest — ha,  ha !  he 
is  a  superior  wretch — he  commands  the  tribe,  and  will 
venture  the  first  into  the  trap.  How  will  he  bite  against 
the  steel,  the  fine  fellow !  while  all  the  ignobler  herd 
will  gaze  at  him  afar  off,  and  quake  and  fear,  and  never 
help.  Yet  if  united,  they  might  gnaw  the  trap  and 
release  their  leader !  Ah,  ye  are  base  vermin,  ye  eat 
my  bread,  yet  if  death  came  upon  me,  ye  would  riot 
on  my  carcass.  Away !  "  and  clapping  his  hands,  the 
chain  round  him  clanked  harshly,  and  the  noisome  co- 
mates  of  his  dungeon  vanished  in  an  instant. 

That  singular  and  eccentric  humour  which  marked 
Rienzi  and 'which  had  seemed  a  buffoonery  to  the 
stolid  sullenness  of  the  Roman  nobles,  still  retained 
its  old  expression  in  his  countenance,  and  he  laughed 
loud  as  he  saw  the  vermin  hurry  back  to  their  hiding- 
place. 

"  A  little  noise  and  the  clank  of  a  chain — fie,  how 
ye  imitate  mankind !  "  Again  he  sank  into  silence, 
and  then  heavily  and  listlessly  drawing  towards  him 
the  animated  tales  of  Livy,  said,  "  An  hour  to  mid- 
night ! — waking  dreams  are  better  than  sleep.  Well, 
history  tells  us  how  men  have  risen — ay,  and  nations 
too — after  sadder  falls  than  that  of  Rienzi  or  of 
Rome!" 

In  a  few  minutes,  he  was  apparently  absorbed  in  the 
lecture;  so  intent  indeed  was  he  in  the  task,  that  he 
did  not  hear  the  steps  which  wound  the  spiral  stairs 
that  conducted  to  his  cell,  and  it  was  not  till  the  wards 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES       453 

harshly  grated  beneath  the  huge  key,  and  the  door 
creaked  on  its  hinges,  that  Rienzi,  in  amaze  at  intru- 
sion at  so  unwonted  an  hour,  lifted  his  eyes.  The 
door  had  reclosed  on  the  dungeon,  and  by  the  lonely 
and  pale  lamp  he  beheld  a  figure  leaning,  as  for  sup- 
port, against  the  wall.  The  figure  was  wrapped  from 
head  to  foot  in  the  long  cloak  of  the  day,  which,  aided 
by  a  broad  hat,  shaded  by  plumes,  concealed  even  the 
features  of  the  visitor. 

Rienzi  gazed  long  and  wistfully. 

"  Speak,"  he  said  at  length,  putting  his  hand  to  his 
brow.  "  Methinks  either  long  solitude  has  bewildered 
me,  or  sweet  sir,  your  apparition  dazzles.  I  know  you 
not — am  I  sure  ? — "  and  Rienzi's  hair,  bristled  while 
he  slowly  rose — "  Am  I  sure  that  it  is  a  living  man 
who  stands  before  me?  Angels  have  entered  the 
prison-house  before  now.  Alas!  an  angel's  comfort 
never  was  more  needed." 

The  stranger  answered  not,  but  the  captive  saw  that 
his  heart  heaved  even  beneath  his  cloak ;  loud  sobs 
choked  his  voice;  at  length,  as  by  a  violent  effort, 
he  sprung  forward,  and  sunk  at  the  Tribune's  feet. 
The  disguising  hat,  the  long  mantle  fell  to  the  ground 
— it  was  the  face  of  a  woman  that  looked  upward 
through  passionate  and  glazing  tears — the  arms  of  a 
woman  that  clasped  the  prisoner's  knees!  Rienzi 
gazed  mute  and  motionless  as  stone.  "  Powers  and 
Saints  of  Heaven !  "  he  murmured  at  last,  "  do  ye 
tempt  me  further ! — is  it  ? — no,  no — yet  speak !  " 

"  Beloved — adored ! — do  you  not  know  me  ?  " 

"  It  is — it  is !  "  shrieked  Rienzi  wildly,  "  it  is  my 

Nina — my  wife — my "  His  voice  forsook  him. 

Clasped  in  each  other's  arms,  the  unfortunates  for  some 
moments  seemed  to  have  lost  even  the  sense  of  delight 


454  RIENZI 

at  their  reunion.  It  was  as  an  unconscious  and  deep 
trance,  through  which  something  like  a  dream  only 
faintly  and  indistinctly  stirs. 

At  length  recovered — at  length  restored,  the  first 
broken  exclamations,  the  first  wild  caresses  of  joy  over 
— Nina  lifted  her  head  from  her  husband's  bosom,  and 
gazed  sadly  on  his  countenance — "  Oh,  what  thou  hast 
known  since  we  parted ! — what,  since  that  hour  when, 
borne  on  by  thy  bold  heart  and  wild  destiny,  thou 
didst  leave  me  in  the  Imperial  Court,  to  seek  again 
the  diadem  and  find  the  chain !  Ah !  why  did  I  heed 
thy  commands? — why  suffer  thee  to  depart  alone? 
How  often  in  thy  progress  hitherward,  in  doubt,  in 
danger,  might  this  bosom  have  been  thy  resting-place, 
and  this  voice  have  whispered  comfort  to  thy  soul ! 
Thou  art  well,  my  Lord — my  Cola!  Thy  pulse  beats 
quicker  than  of  old — thy  brow  is  furrowed.  Ah !  tell 
me  thou  art  well !  " 

"  Well,"  said  Rienzi,  mechanically.  "  Methinks  so ! 
— the  mind  diseased  blunts  all  sense  of  bodily  decay. 
Well — yes !  And  thou — thou,  at  least,  art  not  changed, 
save  to  maturer  beauty.  The  glory  of  the  laurel-wreath 
has  not  faded  from  thy  brow.  Thou  shalt  yet — "  then 
breaking  off  abruptly — "  Rome — tell  me  of  Rome  ! 
And  thou — how  earnest  thou  hither?  Ah !  perhaps  my 
doom  is  sealed,  and  in  their  mercy  they  have  vouch- 
safed that  I  should  see  thee  once  more  before  the 
deathsman  blinds  me.  I  remember,  it  is  the  grace 
vouchsafed  to  malefactors.  When  7  was  a  lord  of  life 
and  death,  I  too  permitted  the  meanest  criminal  to 
say  farewell  to  those  he  loved." 

"  No — not  so,  Cola !  "  exclaimed  Nina,  putting  her 
hand  before  his  mouth.  "  I  bring  thee  more  auspi- 
cious tidings.  To-morrow  thou  art  to  be  heard.  The 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES        455 

favour  of  the  Court  is  propitiated.  Thou  wilt  be  ac- 
quitted." 

"  Ha !  speak  again." 

"  Thou  wilt  be  heard,  my  Cola — thou  must  be  ac- 
quitted !  " 

"  And  Rome  be  free !— Great  God,  I  thank  Thee  !  " 

The  Tribune  sank  on  his  knees,  and  never  had  his 
heart,  in  his  youngest  and  purest  hour,  poured  forth 
thanksgiving  more  fervent,  yet  less  selfish.  When  he 
rose  again,  the  whole  man  seemed  changed.  His  eye 
had  resumed  its  earlier  expressions  of  deep  and  serene 
command.  Majesty  sate  upon  his  brow.  The  sorrows 
of  the  exile  were  forgotten.  In  his  sanguine  and  rapid 
thoughts,  he  stood  once  more  the  guardian  of  his 
country, — and  its  sovereign ! 

Nina  gazed  upon  him  with  that  intense  and  devoted 
worship,  which  steeped  her  vainer  and  her  harder  qual- 
ities in  all  the  fondness  of  the  softest  woman.  "  Such," 
thought  she,  "  was  his  look  eight  years  ago,  when  he 
left  my  maiden  chamber,  full  of  the  mighty  schemes 
which  liberated  Rome — such  his  look,  when  at  the 
dawning  sun  he  towered  amidst  the  crouching  Barons, 
and  the  kneeling  population  of  the  city  he  had  made 
his  throne ! " 

"  Yes,  Nina !  "  said  Rienzi,  as  he  turned  and  caught 
her  eye.  "  My  soul  tells  me  that  my  hour  is  at  hand. 
If  they  try  me  openly,  they  dare  not  convict — if  they 
acquit  me,  they  dare  not  but  restore.  To-morrow, 
saidst  thou,  to-morrow  ?  " 

"  To-morrow,  Rienzi ;  be  prepared !  " 

"  I  am — for  triumph !  But  tell  me  what  happy 
chance  brought  thee  to  Avignon  ?  " 

"  Chance,  Cola !  "  said  Nina,  with  reproachful  ten- 
derness. "  Could  I  know  that  thou  wert  in  the  dun- 


456  RIENZI 

geons  of  the  Pontiff,  and  linger  in  idle  security  at 
Prague?  Even  at  the  Emperor's  Court  thou  hadst 
thy  partisans  and  favourers.  Gold  was  easily  procured. 
I  repaired  to  Florence — disguised  my  name — and  came 
hither  to  plot,  to  scheme,  to  win  thy  liberty,  or  to  die. 
with  thee.  Ah !  did  not  thy  heart  tell  thee  that  morn- 
ing and  night  the  eyes  of  thy  faithful  Nina  gazed  upon 
this  gloomy  tower ;  and  that  one  friend,  humble  though 
she  be,  never  could  forsake  thee !  " 

"  Sweet  Nina !  Yet — yet — at  Avignon  power  yields 
not  to  beauty  without  reward.  Remember,  there  is  a 
worse  death  than  the  pause  of  life." 

Nina  turned  pale.  "  Fear  not,"  she  said,  with  a  low 
but  determined  voice  ;  "  fear  not,  that  men's  lips  should 
say  Rienzi's  wife  delivered  him.  None  in  this  cor- 
rupted Court  know  that  I  am  thy  wife." 

"  Woman,"  said  the  Tribune,  sternly ;  "  thy  lips  elude 
the  answer  I  would  seek.  In  our  degenerate  time  and 
land,  thy  sex  and  ours  forget  too  basely  what  foulness 
writes  a  leprosy  in  the  smallest  stain  upon  a  matron's 
honour.  That  thy  heart  would  never  wrong  me,  I  be- 
lieve ;  but  if  thy  weakness,  thy  fear  of  my  death  should 
wrong  me,  thou  art  a  bitterer  foe  to  Rienzi  than  the 
swords  of  the  Colonna.  Nina,  speak  !  " 

"  Oh,  that  my  soul  could  speak,"  answered  Nina. 
"Thy  words  are  music  to  me,  and  not  a  thought  of 
mine  but  echoes  them.  Could  I  touch  this  hand,  could 
I  meet  that  eye,  and  not  know  that  death  were  dearer 
to  thee  than  shame?  Rienzi,  when  last  we  parted, 
in  sadness,  yet  in  hope,  what  were  thy  words  to 
me?" 

"  I  remember  them  well,"  returned  the  Tribune  :  "  '  I 
leave  thee/  I  said,  'to  keep  alive  at  the  Emperor's 
Court,  by  thy  genius,  the  Great  Cause.  Thou  hast 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES       457 

youth  and  beauty — and  courts  have  lawless  and  ruf- 
fian suitors.  I  give  thee  no  caution ;  it  were  beneath 
thee  and  me.  But  I  leave  thee  the  power  of  death.' 
And  with  that,  Nina " 

"  Thy  hands  tremblingly  placed  in  mine  this  dagger. 
I  live — need  I  say  more  ?  " 

"  My  noble  and  beloved  Nina,  it  is  enough.  Keep 
the  dagger  yet." 

"  Yes ;  till  we  meet  in  the  Capitol  of  Rome ! " 

A  slight  tap  was  heard  at  the  door;  Nina  regained, 
in  an  instant,  her  disguise. 

"  It  is  on  the  stroke  of  midnight,"  said  the  gaoler, 
appearing  at  the  threshold. 

"  I  come,"  said  Nina. 

"  And  thou  hast  to  prepare  thy  thoughts,"  she  whis- 
pered to  Rienzi :  "  arm  all  thy  glorious  intellect. 
Alas  !  is  it  again  we  part  ?  How  my  heart  sinks !  " 

The  presence  of  the  gaoler  at  the  threshold'  broke 
the  bitterness  of  parting  by  abridging  it.  The  false 
page  pressed  her  lips  on  the  prisoner's  hand  and  left 
the  cell. 

The  gaoler,  lingering  behind  for  a  moment,  placed 
a  parchment  on  the  table.  It  was  the  summons  from 
the  court  appointed  for  the  trial  of  the  Tribune. 


CHAPTER   VI 

THE    SCENT    DOES    NOT    LIE. — THE    PRIEST    AND    THE 
SOLDIER 

On  descending  the  stairs,  Nina  was  met  by  Alvarez. 

"  Fair  page,"  said  the  Spaniard,  gaily,  "  thy  name, 

thou  tellest  me,  is  Villani? — Angelo  Villani — why  I 


458  RIENZI 

know  thy  kinsman,  methinks.  Vouchsafe,  young  mas- 
ter, to  enter  this  chamber,  and  drink  a  night-cup  to 
thy  lady's  health;  I  would  fain  learn  tidings  of  my 
old  friends." 

"  At  another  time,"  answered  the  false  Angelo, 
drawing  the  cloak  closer  round  her  face ;  "  it  is  late — 
I  am  hurried." 

"  Nay,"  said  the  Spaniard,  "  you  escape  me  not  so 
easily ; "  and  he  caught  firm  hold  of  the  page's  shoul- 
der. 

"  Unhand  me,  sir !  "  said  Nina,  haughtily,  and  almost 
weeping,  for  her  strong  nerves  were  yet  unstrung. 
"  Gaoler,  at  thy  peril — unbar  the  gates." 

"  So  hot,"  said  Alvarez,  surprised  at  so  great  a  waste 
of  dignity  in  a  page  ;  "  nay,  I  meant  not  to  offend  thee. 
May  I  wait  on  thy  pageship  to-morrow  ?  " 

"  Ay,  to-morrow,"  said  Nina,  eager  to  escape. 

"  And  meanwhile,"  said  Alvarez,  "  I  will  accompany 
thee  home — we  can  confer  by  the  way." 

So  saying,  without  regarding  the  protestations  of  the 
supposed  page,  he  passed  with  Nina  into  the  open  air. 
"Your  lady,"  said  he,  carelessly,  "is  wondrous  fair; 
her  lightest  will  is  law  to  the  greatest  noble  of  Avignon. 
Methinks  she  is  of  Naples — is  it  so  ?  Art  thou  dumb, 
sweet  youth  ?  " 

The  page  did  not  answer,  but  with  a  step  so  rapid 
that  it  almost  put  the  slow  Spaniard  out  of  breath, 
hastened  along  the  narrow  space  between  the  tower 
and  the  palace  of  the  Signora  Cesarini,  nor  could  all 
the  efforts  of  Alvarez  draw  forth  a  single  syllable  from 
his  reluctant  companion,  till  they  reached  the  gates 
of  the  palace,  and  he  found  himself  discourteously  left 
without  the  walls. 

"  A  plague  on  the  boy ! "  said  he,  biting  his  lips ; 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES       459 

"  if  the  Cardinal  thrive  as  well  as  his  servant,  by're 
Lady,  Monsignor  is  a  happy  man !  " 

By  no  means  pleased  with  the  prospect  of  an  inter- 
view with  Albornoz,  who,  like  most  able  men,  valued 
the  talents  of  those  he  employed  exactly  in  proportion 
to  their  success,  the  Spaniard  slowly  returned  home. 
With  the  licence  accorded  to  him,  he  entered  the  Car- 
dinal's chamber  somewhat  abruptly,  and  perceived 
him  in  earnest  conversation  with  a  Cavalier,  whose 
long  moustache,  curled  upward,  and  the  bright  cuirass 
worn  underneath  his  mantle,  seemed  to  betoken  him 
of  martial  profession.  Pleased  with  the  respite,  Al- 
varez hastily  withdrew :  and,  in  fact,  the  Cardinal's 
thoughts  at  that  moment,  and  for  that  night,  were  bent 
upon  other  subjects  than  those  of  love. 

The  interruption  served,  however,  to  shorten  the 
conversation  between  Albornoz  and  his  guest.  The 
latter  rose. 

"  I  think,"  said  he,  buckling  on  a  short  and  broad 
rapier,  which  he  laid  aside  during  the  interview, — "  I 
think,  my  Lord  Cardinal,  you  encourage  me  to  con- 
sider that  our  negotiation  stands  a  fair  chance  of  a 
prosperous  close.  Ten  thousand  florins,  and  my 
brother  quits  Viterbo,  and  launches  the  thunderbolt 
of  the  Company  on  the  lands  of  Rimini.  On  your 
part " 

"  On  my  part  it  is  agreed,"  said  the  Cardinal,  "  that 
the  army  of  the  Church  interferes  not  with  the  course 
of  your  brother's  arms — there  is  peace  between  us. 
One  warrior  understands  another !  " 

"  And  the  word  of  Giles  d' Albornoz,  son  of  the 
royal  race  of  Aragon,  is  a  guarantee  for  the  faith  of 
a  Cardinal,"  replied  the  Cavalier,  with  a  smile.  "  It  is, 
my  Lord,  in  your  former  quality  that  we  treat." 


460  RIENZI 

"  There  is  my  right  hand,"  answered  Albornoz,  too 
politic  to  heed  the  insinuation.  The  Cavalier  raised 
it  respectfully  to  his  lips,  and  his  armed  tread  was 
soon  heard  descending  the  stairs. 

"  Victory,"  cried  Albornoz,  tossing  his  arms  aloof ; 
"  Victory,  now  thou  art  mine !  " 

With  that  he  rose  hastily,  deposited  his  papers  in 
an  iron  chest,  and  opening  a  concealed  door  behind 
the  arras,  entered  a  chamber  that  rather  resembled  a 
monk's  cell  than  the  apartment  of  a  prince.  Over  a 
mean  pallet  hung  a  sword,  a  dagger,  and  a  rude  im- 
age of  the  Virgin.  Without  summoning  Alvarez  the 
Cardinal  unrobed,  and  in  a  few  moments  was  asleep. 


CHAPTER   VII 

VAUCLUSE  AND  ITS  GENIUS  LOCI. — OLD  ACQUAINTANCE 
RENEWED 

The  next  day  at  early  noon  the  Cavalier,  whom  our 
last  chapter  presented  to  the  reader,  was  seen  mounted 
on  a  strong  Norman  horse,  winding  his  way  slowly 
along  a  green  and  pleasant  path  some  miles  from  Avi- 
gnon. At  length  he  found  himself  in  a  wild  and 
romantic  valley,  through  which  wandered  that  de- 
lightful river  whose  name  the  verse  of  Petrarch  has 
given  to  so  beloved  a  fame.  Sheltered  by  rocks,  and 
in  this  part  winding  through  the  greenest  banks,  en- 
amelled with  a  thousand  wild  flowers  and  water-reeds, 
went  the  crystal  Sorgia.  Advancing  farther,  the  land- 
scape assumed  a  more  sombre  and  sterile  aspect.  The 
valley  seemed  enclosed  or  shut  in  by  fantastic  rocks  of 
a  thousand  shapes,  down  which  dashed  and  glittered 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES        461 

a  thousand  rivulets.  And,  in  the  very  wildest  of  the 
scene,  the  ground  suddenly  opened  into  a  quaint  and 
cultivated  garden,  through  which,  amidst  a  profusion 
of  foliage  was  seen  a  small  and  lonely  mansion, — the 
hermitage  of  the  place.  The  horseman  was  in  the 
valley  of  the  Vaucluse  and  before  his  eye  lay  the 
garden  and  the  house  of  PETRARCH  !  Carelessly,  how- 
ever, his  eye  scanned  the  consecrated  spot;  and  un- 
consciously it  rested  for  a  moment,  upon  a  solitary 
figure  seated  musingly  by  the  margin  of  the  river.  A 
large  dog  at  the  side  of  the  noonday  idler  barked  at 
the  horseman  as  he  rode  on.  "  A  brave  animal  and 
a  deep  bay !  "  thought  the  traveller ;  to  him  the  dog 
seemed  an  object  much  more  interesting  than  its  mas- 
ter. And  so, — as  the  crowd  of  little  men  pass  un- 
heeding and  unmoved  those  in  whom  Posterity  shall 
acknowledge  the  landmarks  of  their  age, — the  horse- 
man turned  his  glance  from  the  Poet ! 

Thrice  blessed  name  !  Immortal  Florentine !  *  not 
as  the  lover,  nor  even  as  the  poet,  do  I  bow  before 
thy  consecrated  memory — venerating  thee  as  one  it 
were  sacrilege  to  introduce  in  this  unworthy  page — 
save  by  name  and  as  a  shadow ;  but  as  the  first  who 
ever  asserted  to  people  and  to  prince  the  august  maj- 
esty of  Letters ;  who  claimed  to  Genius  the  preroga- 
tive to  influence  states,  to  control  opinion,  to  hold  an 
empire  over  the  hearts  of  men,  and  prepare  events 
by  animating  passion,  and  guiding  thought !  What, 
(though  but  feebly  felt  and  dimly  seen) — what  do  we 
yet  owe  to  Thee  if  Knowledge  be  now  a  Power;  if 
MIND  be  a  Prophet  and  a  Fate,  foretelling  and  fore- 
dooming the  things  to  come !  From  the  greatest  to 

*  I  need  scarcely  say  that  it  is  his  origin,  not  his  actual 
birth,  which  entitles  us  to  term  Petrarch  a  Florentine. 


462  RIENZI 

the  least  of  us,  to  whom  the  pen  is  at  once  a  sceptre 
and  a  sword,  the  low-born  Florentine  has  been  the 
arch-messenger  to  smooth  the  way  and  prepare  the 
welcome.  Yes!  even  the  meanest  of  the  aftercomers 
— even  he  who  now  vents  his  gratitude, — is  thine  ever- 
lasting debtor!  Thine,  how  largely  is  the  honour,  if 
his  labours,  humble  though  they  be,  find  an  audience 
wherever  literature  is  known ;  preaching  in  remotest 
lands  the  moral  of  forgotten  revolutions,  and  scatter- 
ing in  the  palace  and  the  market-place  the  seeds  that 
shall  ripen  into  fruit  when  the  hand  of  the  sower  shall 
be  dust,  and  his  very  name,  perhaps,  be  lost !  For  few, 
alas !  are  they  whose  names  may  outlive  the  grave ; 
but  the  thoughts  of  every  man  who  writes,  are  made 
undying ; — others  appropriate,  advance,  exalt  them  ; 
and  millions  of  minds  unknown,  undreamt  of,  are  re- 
quired to  produce  the  immortality  of  one ! 

Indulging  meditations  very  different  from  those 
which  the  idea  of  Petrarch  awakens  in  a  later  time, 
the  Cavalier  pursued  his  path. 

The  valley  was  long  left  behind,  and  the  way  grew 
more  and  more  faintly  traced,  until  it  terminated  in  a 
wood,  through  whose  tangled  boughs  the  sunlight 
broke  playfully.  At  length,  the  wood  opened  into  a 
wide  glade,  from  which  rose  a  precipitous  ascent, 
crowned  with  the  ruins  of  an  old  castle.  The  traveller 
dismounted,  led  his  horse  up  the  ascent,  and,  gaining 
the  ruins,  left  his  steed  within  one  of  the  roofless  cham- 
bers, overgrown  with  the  longest  grass  and  a  profu- 
sion of  wild  shrubs ;  thence  ascending,  with  some  toil, 
a  narrow  and  broken  staircase,  he  found  himself  in  a 
small  room,  less  decayed  than  the  rest,  of  which  the 
roof  and  floor  were  yet  whole. 

Stretched  on  the  ground  in  his  cloak,  and  leaning 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES       463 

his  head  thoughtfully  on  his  hand,  was  a  man  of  tall 
stature  and  middle  age.  He  lifted  himself  on  his  arm 
with  great  alacrity  as  the  Cavalier  entered. 

"  Well,  Brettone,  I  have  counted  the  hours — what 
tidings  ?  " 

"  Albornoz  consents." 

"  Glad  news !  Thou  givest  me  new  life.  Pardieu, 
I  shall  breakfast  all  the  better  for  this,  my  brother. 
Hast  thou  remembered  that  I  am  famishing?" 

Brettone  drew  from  beneath  his  cloak  a  sufficiently 
huge  cask  of  wine,  and  a  small  panier,  tolerably  well 
filled ;  the  inmate  of  the  tower  threw  himself  upon  the 
provant  with  great  devotion.  And  both  the  soldiers, 
for  such  they  were,  stretched  at  length  on  the  ground, 
regaled  themselves  with  considerable  zest,  talking  has- 
tily and  familiarly  between  every  mouthful. 

"  I  say,  Brettone,  thou  playest  unfairly ;  thou  hast 
already  devoured  more  than  half  the  pasty :  push  it 
hitherward.  And  so  the  Cardinal  consents!  What 
manner  of  man  is  he  ?  Able  as  they  say  ?  " 

"  Quick,  sharp,  and  earnest,  with  an  eye  of  fire,  few 
words,  and  comes  to  the  point." 

"  Unlike  a  priest,  then ; — a  good  brigand  spoilt. 
What  hast  thou  heard  of  the  force  he  heads  ?  Ho,  not 
so  fast  with  the  wine." 

"  Scanty  at  present. — He  relies  on  recruits  through- 
out Italy." 

"  What  his  designs  for  Rome  ?  There,  my  brother, 
there  tends  my  secret  soul !  As  for  these  petty  towns 
and  petty  tyrants,  I  care  not  how  they  fall,  or  by  whom. 
But  the  Pope  must  not  return  to  Rome.  Rome  must 
be  mine.  The  city  of  a  new  empire,  the  conquest  of 
a  new  Attila!  There,  every  circumstance  combines 
in  my  favour ! — the  absence  of  the  Pope,  the  weakness 


464  RIENZI 

of  the  middle  class,  the  poverty  of  the  populace,  the 
imbecile  though  ferocious  barbarism  of  the  Barons, 
have  long  concurred  to  render  Rome  the  most  facile, 
while  the  most  glorious  conquest !  " 

"  My  brother,  pray  Heaven  your  ambition  do  not 
wreck  you  at  last ;  you  are  ever  losing  sight  of  the 
land.  Surely,  with  the  immense  wealth  we  are  acquir- 
ing, we  may " 

"  Aspire  to  be  something  greater  than  Free  Com- 
panions, generals  to-day,  and  adventurers  to-morrow. 
Rememberest  thou,  how  the  Norman  sword  won 
Sicily,  and  how  the  bastard  William  converted  on  the 
field  of  Hastings  his  baton  into  a  sceptre.  I  tell  thee, 
Brettone,  that  this  loose  Italy  has  crowns  on  the  hedge 
that  a  dexterous  hand  may  carry  off  at  the  point  of 
the  lance.  My  course  is  taken,  I  will  form  the  fairest 
army  in  Italy,  and  with  it  I  will  win  a  throne  in  the 
Capitol.  Fool  that  I  was  six  years  ago! — Instead  of 
deputing  that  mad  dolt  Pepin  of  Minorbino,  had  I 
myself  deserted  the  Hungarian,  and  repaired  with  my 
soldiery  to  Rome,  the  fall  of  Rienzi  would  have  been 
followed  by  the  rise  of  Montreal.  Pepin  was  out- 
witted, and  threw  away  the  prey  after  he  had  hunted 
it  down.  The  lion  shall  not  again  trust  the  chase  to 
the  jackal !  " 

"  Walter,  thou  speakest  of  the  fate  of  Rienzi,  let  it 
warn  thee ! " 

"  Rienzi !  "  replied  Montreal ;  "  I  know  the  man !  In 
peaceful  times,  or  with  an  honest  people,  he  would 
have  founded  a  great  dynasty.  But  he  dreamt  of  laws 
and  liberty  for  men  who  despise  the  first  and  will  not 
protect  the  last.  We,  of  a  harder  race,  know  that  a 
new  throne  must  be  built  by  the  feudal  and  not  the 
civil  system;  and  into  the  city  we  must  transport  the 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES        465 

camp.  It  is  by  the  multitude  that  the  proud  Tribune 
gained  power, — by  the  multitude  he  lost  it ;  it  is  by 
the  sword  that  I  will  win  it,  and  by  the  sword  will 
I  keep  it !  " 

"  Rienzi  was  too  cruel,  he  should  not  have  incensed 
the  Barons,"  said  Brettone,  about  to  finish  the  flask, 
when  the  strong  hand  of  his  brother  plucked  it  from 
him,  and  anticipated  the  design. 

"  Pooh,"  said  Montreal,  finishing  the  draught  with 
a  long  sigh,  "  he  was  not  cruel  enough.  He  sought 
only  to  be  just,  and  not  to  distinguish  between  noble 
and  peasant.  He  should  have  distinguished !  He 
should  have  exterminated  the  nobles  root  and  branch. 
But  this  no  Italian  can  do.  This  is  reserved  for  me." 

"  Thou  wouldst  not  butcher  all  the  best  blood  of 
Rome?" 

"  Butcher !  No,  but  I  would  seize  their  lands,  and 
endow  with  them  a  new  nobility,  the  hardy  and  fierce 
nobility  of  the  North,  who  well  know  how  to  guard 
their  prince,  and  will  guard  him,  as  the  fountain  of 
their  own  power.  Enough  of  this  now.  And  talking 
of  Rienzi — rots  he  still  in  his  dungeon  ?  " 

"  Why,  this  morning,  ere  I  left,  I  heard  strange  news. 
The  town  was  astir,  groups  in  every  corner.  They 
said  that  Rienzi's  trial  was  to  be  to-day,  and  from  the 
names  of  the  judges  chosen,  it  is  suspected  that  ac- 
quittal is  already  determined  on." 

"  Ha !  thou  shouldst  have  told  me  of  this  before." 

"  Should  he  be  restored  to  Rome,  would  it  militate 
against  thy  plans?  " 

"  Humph !  I  know  not — deep  thought  and  dexterous 
management  would  be  needed.  I  would  fain  not  leave 
this  spot  till  I  hear  what  is  decided  on." 

"  Surely,  Walter,  it  would  have  been  wiser  and  safer 
30 


466  RIENZI 

to  have  stayed  with  thy  soldiery,  and  intrusted  me  with 
the  absolute  conduct  of  this  affair." 

"  Not  so,"  answered  Montreal ;  "  thou  art  a  bold 

fellow  enough,  and  a  cunning  ,  but  my  head  in 

these  matters  is  better  than  thine.  Besides,"  contin- 
ued the  knight,  lowering  his  voice,  and  shading  his 
face,  "  I  had  vowed  a  pilgrimage  to  the  beloved  river, 

and  the  old  trysting-place.  Ah  me ! But  all  this, 

Brettone,  thou  understandest  not — let  it  pass.  As  for 
my  safety,  since  we  have  come  to  this  amnesty  with 
Albornoz,  I  fear  but  little  danger  even  if  discovered : 
besides,  I  want  the  florins.  There  are  those  in  this 
country,  Germans,  who  could  eat  an  Italian  army  at  a 
meal,  whom  I  would  fain  engage,  and  their  leaders 
want  earnest-money — the  griping  knaves ! — How  are 
the  Cardinal's  florins  to  be  paid  ?  " 

"  Half  now — half  when  thy  troops  are  before  Ri- 
mini ! " 

"  Rimini !  the  thought  whets  my  sword.  Remem- 
berest  thou  how  that  accursed  Malatesta  drove  me 
from  Aversa,*  broke  up  my  camp,  and  made  me  ren- 
der to  him  all  my  booty  ?  There  fell  the  work  of  years ! 
But  for  that, "my  banner  now  would  be  floating  over 
St.  Angelo.  I  will  pay  back  the  debt  with  fire  and 
sword,  ere  the  summer  has  shed  its  leaves." 

The  fair  countenance  of  Montreal  grew  terrible  as 
he  uttered  these  words;  his  hands  griped  the  handle 
of  his  sword,  and  his  strong  frame  heaved  visibly; 
tokens  of  the  fierce  and  unsparing  passions,  by  the 

*  This  Malatesta,  a  signior  of  illustrious  family,  was  one 
of  the  most  skilful  warriors  in  Italy.  He  and  his  brother 
Galeotto  had  been  raised  to  the  joint-tyranny  of  Rimini  by 
the  voice  of  its  citizens.  After  being  long  the  foes  of  the 
Church,  they  were  ultimately  named  as  its  captains  by  the 
Cardinal  Albornoz. 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES        467 

aid  of  which  a  life  of  rapine  and  revenge  had  cor- 
rupted a  nature  originally  full  no  less  of  the  mercy 
than  the  courage  of  Proven9al  chivalry. 

Such  was  the  fearful  man  who  now  (the  wildness 
of  his  youth  sobered,  and  his  ambition  hardened  and 
concentered)  was  the  rival  with  Rienzi  for  the  mastery 
of  Rome. 


CHAPTER    VIII 

THE    CROWD. THE    TRIAL. THE    VERDICT. THE 

SOLDIER   AND    THE    PAGE 

It  was  on  the  following  evening  that  a  considerable 
crowd  had  gathered  in  the  streets  of  Avignon.  It  was 
the  second  day  of  the  examination  of  Rienzi,  and  with 
every  moment  was  expected  the  announcement  of  the 
verdict.  Amongst  the  foreigners  of  all  countries  as- 
sembled in  that  seat  of  the  Papal  splendour,  the  in- 
terest was  intense.  The  Italians,  even  of  the  highest 
rank,  were  in  favour  of  the  Tribune,  the  French 
against  him.  As  for  the  good  townspeople  of  Avi- 
gnon themselves,  they  felt  but  little  excitement  in  any- 
thing that  did  not  bring  money  into  their  pockets ; 
and  if  it  had  been  put  to  the  secret  vote,  no  doubt  there 
would  have  been  a  vast  majority  for  burning  the  pris- 
oner, as  a  marketable  speculation ! 

Amongst  the  crowd  was  a  tall  man  in  a  plain  and 
rusty  suit  of  armour,  but  with  an  air  of  knightly  bear- 
ing, which  somewhat  belied  the  coarseness  of  his  mail ; 
he  wore  no  helmet,  but  a  small  morion  of  black  leather, 
with  a  long  projecting  shade,  much  used  by  wayfarers 
in  the  hot  climates  of  the  south.  A  black  patch  cov- 
ered nearly  the  whole  of  one  cheek,  and  altogether 


468  RIENZI 

he  bore  the  appearance  of  a  grim  soldier,  with  whom 
war  had  dealt  harshly,  both  in  purse  and  person. 

Many  were  the  jests  at  the  shabby  swordsman's  ex- 
pense, with  which  that  lively  population  amused  their 
impatience ;  and  though  the  shade  of  the  morion  con- 
cealed his  eyes,  an  arch  and  merry  smile  about  the 
corners  of  his  mouth  showed  that  he  could  take  a  jest 
at  himself. 

"  Well,"  said  one  of  the  crowd  (a  rich  Milanese), 
"  I  am  of  a  state  that  was  free,  and  I  trust  the  People's 
man  will  have  justice  shown  him." 

"  Amen,"  said  a  grave  Florentine. 

"  They  say,"  whispered  a  young  student  from  Paris, 
to  a  learned  doctor  of  laws,  with  whom  he  abode, 
"  that  his  defence  has  been  a  masterpiece." 

"  He  hath  taken  no  degrees,"  replied  the  doctor, 
doubtingly.  "  Ho,  friend,  why  dost  thou  push  me  so? 
thou  hast  rent  my  robe." 

This  was  said  to  a  minstrel,  or  jongleur,  who,  with 
a  small  lute  slung  round  him,  was  making  his  way, 
with  great  earnestness,  through  the  throng. 

"  I  beg  pardon,  worthy  sir,"  said  the  minstrel ;  "  but 
this  is  a  scene  to  be  sung  of!  Centuries  hence — ay, 
and  in  lands  remote — legend  and  song  will  tell  the 
fortunes  of  Cola  di  Rienzi,  the  friend  of  Petrarch  and 
the  Tribune  of  Rome ! " 

The  young  French  student  turned  quickly  round  to 
the  minstrel,  with  a  glow  on  his  pale  face ;  not  sharing 
the  general  sentiments  of  his  countrymen  against  Ri- 
enzi, he  felt  that  it  was  an  era  in  the  world  when  a 
minstrel  spoke  thus  of  the  heroes  of  intellect — not  of 
war. 

At  this  time  the  tall  soldier  was  tapped  impatiently 
on  the  back. 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES        469 

"  I  pray  thee,  great  sir,"  said  a  sharp  and  imperious 
voice,  "  to  withdraw  that  tall  bulk  of  thine  a  little 
on  one  side — I  cannot  see  through  thee ;  and  I  would 
fain  my  eyes  were  among  the  first  to  catch  a  glimpse 
of  Rienzi  as  he  passes  from  the  court'." 

"  Fair  Sir  page,"  replied  the  soldier,  good-hu- 
mouredly,  as  he  made  way  for  Angelo  Villani,  "  thou 
wilt  not  always  find  that  way  in  the  world  is  won  by 
commanding  the  strong.  When  thou  art  older  thou 
wilt  beard  the  weak,  and  the  strong  thou  wilt  wheedle." 

"  I  must  change  my  nature,  then,"  answered  Angelo 
(who  was  of  somewhat  small  stature,  and  not  yet  come 
to  his  full  growth),  trying  still  to  raise  himself  above 
the  heads  of  the  crowd. 

The  soldier  looked  at  him  approvingly;  and  as  he 
looked  he  sighed,  and  his  lips  worked  with  some 
strange  emotion. 

"  Thou  speakest  well,"  said  he,  after  a  pause.  "  Par- 
don me  the  rudeness  of  the  question ;  but  art  thou 
of  Italy  ? — thy  tongue  savours  of  the  Roman  dialect ; 
yet  I  have  seen  lineaments  like  thine  on  this  side  the 
Alps." 

"  It  may  be,  good  fellow,"  said  the  page  haughtily; 
"  but  I  thank  Heaven  that  I  am  of  Rome." 

At  this  moment  a  loud  shout  burst  from  that  part 
of  the  crowd  nearest  the  court.  The  sound  of  trum- 
pets again  hushed  the  throng  into  deep  and  breathless 
silence,  while  the  Pope's  guards,  ranged  along  the 
space  conducting  from  the  court,  drew  themselves  up 
more  erect,  and  fell  a  step  or  two  back  upon  the 
crowd. 

As  the  trumpets  ceased,  the  voice  of  a  herald  was 
heard,  but  it  did  not  penetrate  within  several  yards 
of  the  spot  where  Angelo  and  the  soldier  stood ;  and 


470  RIENZI 

it  was  only  by  a  mighty  shout  that  in  a  moment  cir- 
cled through,  and  was  echoed  back  by,  the  wide  mul- 
titude— by  the  waving  of  kerchiefs  from  the  windows 
— by  broken  ejaculations,  which  were  caught  up  from 
lip  to  lip,  that  the  page  knew  that  Rienzi  was  ac- 
quitted. 

"  I  would  I  could  see  his  face !  "  sighed  the  page, 
querulously. 

"  And  thou  shalt,"  said  the  soldier ;  and  he  caught 
up  the  boy  in  his  arms,  and  pressed  on  with  the 
strength  of  a  giant,  parting  the  living  stream  from 
right  to  left,  as  he  took  his  way  to  a  place  near  the 
guards,  and  by  which  Rienzi  was  sure  to  pass. 

The  page,  half-pleased,  half-indignant,  struggled  a 
little,  but  finding  it  in  vain,  consented  tacitly  to  what 
he  felt  an  outrage  on  his  dignity. 

"  Never  mind,"  said  the  soldier,  "  thou  art  the  first 
I  ever  willingly  raised  above  myself;  and  I  do  it  now 
for  the  sake  of  thy  fair  face,  which  reminds  me  of  one 
I  loved." 

But  these  last  words  were  spoken  low,  and  the  boy, 
in  his  anxiety  to  see  the  hero  of  Rome,  did  not  hear 
or  heed  them.  Presently  Rienzi  came  by ;  two  gentle- 
men, of  the  Pope's  own  following,  walked  by  his  side. 
He  moved  slowly,  amidst  the  greetings  and  clamour 
of  the  crowd,  looking  neither  to  the  right  nor  left. 
His  bearing  was  firm  and  collected,  and,  save  by  the 
flush  of  his  cheek,  there  was  no  external  sign  of  joy 
or  excitement.  Flowers  dropped  from  every  balcony 
on  his  path :  and  just  when  he  came  to  a  broader 
space,  where  the  ground  was  somewhat  higher,  and 
where  he  was  in  fuller  view  of  the  houses  around,  he 
paused — and,  uncovering,  acknowledged  the  homage 
he  had  received,  with  a  look — a  gesture — which  each 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES        471 

who  beheld  never  forgot.  It  haunted  even  that  gay 
and  thoughtless  court,  when  the  last  tale  of  Rienzi's 
life  reached  their  ears.  And  Angelo,  clinging  then 
round  that  soldier's  neck,  recalled — but  we  must  not 
anticipate. 

It  was  not,  however,  to  the  dark  tower  that  Rienzi 
returned.  His  home  was  prepared  at  the  palace  of 
the  Cardinal  d'Albornoz.  The  next  day  he  was  ad- 
mitted to  the  Pope's  presence,  and  on  the  evening  of 
that  day  he  was  proclaimed  Senator  of  Rome. 

Meanwhile  the  soldier  had  placed  Angelo  on  the 
ground;  and  as  the  page  faltered  out  no  courteous 
thanks,  he  interrupted  him  in  a  sad  and  kind  voice, 
the  tone  of  which  struck  the  page  forcibly,  so  little 
did  it  suit  the  rough  and  homely  appearance  of  the 
man. 

"  We  part,"  he  said,  "  as  strangers,  fair  boy ;  and 
since  thou  sayest  thou  art  of  Rome,  there  is  no  reason 
why  my  heart  should  have  warmed  to  thee  as  it  has 
done ;  yet  if  ever  thou  wantest  a  friend, — seek  him  " 
— and  the  soldier's  voice  sunk  into  a  whisper — "  in 
Walter  de  Montreal." 

Ere  the  page  recovered  his  surprise  at  that  redoubt- 
ed name,  which  his  earliest  childhood  had  been  taught 
to  dread,  the  Knight  of  St.  John  had  vanished  amongst 
the  crowd. 


CHAPTER    IX 

ALBORNOZ    AND    NINA 

But  the  eyes  which,  above  all  others,  thirsted  for  a 
glimpse  of  the  released  captive  were  forbidden  that 
delight.  Alone  in  her  chamber,  Nina  awaited  the  re- 


472  RIENZI 

suit  of  the  trial.  She  heard  the  shouts,  the  exclama- 
tions, the  tramp  of  thousands  along  the  street;  she 
felt  that  the  victory  was  won ;  and,  her  heart  long 
overcharged,  she  burst  into  passionate  tears.  The  re- 
turn of  Angelo  soon  acquainted  her  with  all  that  had 
passed ;  but  it  somewhat  chilled  her  joy  to  find  Rienzi 
was  the  guest  of  the  dreaded  Cardinal.  That  shock, 
in  which  certainty,  however  happy,  replaces  suspense, 
had  so  powerful  an  effect  on  her  frame,  joined  to  her 
loathing  fear  of  a  visit  from  the  Cardinal,  that  she 
became  for  three  days  alarmingly  ill ;  and  it  was  only 
on  the  fifth  day  from  that  which  saw  Rienzi  endowed 
with  the  rank  of  Senator  of  Rome,  that  she  was  re- 
covered sufficiently  to  admit  Albornoz  to  her  presence. 
The  Cardinal  had  sent  daily  to  inquire  after  her 
health,  and  his  inquiries,  to  her  alarmed  mind,  had  ap- 
peared to  insinuate  a  pretension  to  the  right  to  make 
them.  Meanwhile  Albornoz  had  had  enough  to  divert 
and  occupy  his  thoughts.  Having  bought  off  the  for- 
midable Montreal  from  the  service  of  John  de  Vico, 
one  of  the  ablest  and  fiercest  enemies  of  the  Church, 
he  resolved  to  march  to  the  territories  of  that  tyrant  as 
expeditiously  as  possible,  and  so  not  to  allow  him  time 
to  obtain  the  assistance  of  any  other  band  of  the  mer- 
cenary adventurers,  who  found  Italy  the  market  for 
their  valour.  Occupied  with  raising  troops,  procur- 
ing money,  corresponding  with  the  various  free  states, 
and  establishing  alliances  in  aid  of  his  ulterior  and 
more  ambitious  projects  at  the  court  of  Avignon,  the 
Cardinal  waited  with  tolerable  resignation  the  time 
when  he  might  claim  from  the  Signora  Cesarini  the 
reward  to  which  he  deemed  himself  entitled.  Mean- 
while he  had  held  his  first  conversations  with  Rienzi, 
and,  under  the  semblance  of  courtesy  to  the  acquitted 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES       473 

Tribune,  Albornoz  had  received  him  as  his  guest,  in 
order  to  make  himself  master  of  the  character  and  dis- 
position of  one  in  whom  he  sought  a  minister  and  a 
tool.  That  miraculous  and  magic  art,  attested  by  the 
historians  of  the  time,  which  Rienzi  possessed  over 
every  one  with  whom  he  came  into  contact,  however 
various  in  temper,  station,  or  opinions,  had  not  de- 
serted him  in  his  interview  with  the  Pontiff.  So  faith- 
fully had  he  described  the  true  condition  of  Rome,  so 
logically  had  he  traced  the  causes  and  the  remedies 
of  the  evils  she  endured,  so  sanguinely  had  he  spoken 
of  his  own  capacities  for  administering  her  affairs,  and 
so  brilliantly  had  he  painted  the  prospects  which  that 
administration  opened  to  the  weal  of  the  Church,  and 
the  interests  of  the  Pope,  that  Innocent,  though  a  keen 
and  shrewd,  and  somewhat  sceptical  calculator  of  hu- 
man chances,  was  entirely  fascinated  by  the  eloquence 
of  the  Roman. 

"  Is  this  the  man,"  he  is  reported  to  have  said, 
"  whom  for  twelve  months  we  have  treated  as  a  pris- 
oner and  a  criminal?  Would  that  it  were  on  his 
shoulders  only  that  the  Christian  empire  reposed !  " 

At  the  close  of  the  interview  he  had,  with  every 
mark  of  favour  and  distinction,  conferred  upon  Rienzi 
the  rank  of  Senator,  which,  in  fact,  was  that  of  Viceroy 
of  Rome,  and  had  willingly  acceded  to  all  the  projects 
which  the  enterprising  Rienzi  had  once  more  formed 
— not  only  for  recovering  the  territories  of  the  Church, 
but  for  extending  the  dictatorial  sway  of  the  Seven- 
hilled  City,  over  the  old  dependencies  of  Italy. 

Albornoz,  to  whom  the  Pope  retailed  this  conversa- 
tion, was  somewhat  jealous  of  the  favour  the  new  Sen< 
ator  had  so  suddenly  acquired,  and  immediately  on  his 
return  home  sought  an  interview  with  his  guest.  In 


474  RIENZI 

his  heart,  the  Lord  Cardinal,  emphatically  a  man  of 
action  and  business,  regarded  Rienzi  as  one  rather 
cunning  than  wise — rather  fortunate  than  great — a 
mixture  of  the  pedant  and  the  demagogue.  But  after 
a  long  and  scrutinising  conversation  with  the  new  Sen- 
ator, even  he  yielded  to  the  spell  of  his  enchanting  and 
master  intellect.  Reluctantly  Albornoz  confessed  to 
himself  that  Rienzi's  rise  was  not  the  thing  of  chance ; 
yet  more  reluctantly  he  perceived  that  the  Senator  was 
one  whom  he  might  treat  with  as  an  equal,  but  could 
not  rule  as  a  minion.  And  he  entertained  serious 
doubts  whether  it  would  be  wise  to  reinstate  him  in 
a  power  which  he  evinced  the  capacity  to  wield  and 
the  genius  to  extend.  Still,  however,  he  did  not  re- 
pent the  share  he  had  taken  in  Rienzi's  acquittal.  His 
presence  in  a  camp  so  thinly  peopled  was  a  matter 
greatly  to  be  desired.  And  through  his  influence,  the 
Cardinal  more  than  ever  trusted  to  enlist  the  Romans 
in  favour  of  his  enterprise  for  the  recovery  of  the  terri- 
tory of  St.  Peter ! 

Rienzi,  who  panted  once  more  to  behold  his  Nina, 
endeared  to  him  by  trial  and  absence,  as  by  fresh 
bridals,  was  not  however  able  to  discover  the  name 
she  had  assumed  at  Avignon;  and  his  residence  with 
the  Cardinal  closely  but  respectfully  watched  as  he 
was,  forbade  Nina  all  opportunity  of  corresponding 
with  him.  Some  half  bantering  hints  which  Albornoz 
had  dropped  upon  the  interest  taken  in  his  welfare  by 
the  most  celebrated  beauty  of  Avignon,  had  filled  him 
with  a  vague  alarm  which  he  trembled  to  acknowledge 
even  to  himself.  But  the  volto  sciolto*  which,  in  com- 
mon with  all  Italian  politicians,  concealed  whatever 

*  Volto  sciolto,  pensieri  stretti—tlie  countenance  open,  the 
thoughts  restrained. 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES        475 

were  his  pensieri  stretti — enabled  him  to  baffle  com- 
pletely the  jealous  and  lynxlike  observation  of  the 
Cardinal.  Nor  had  Alvarez  been  better  enabled  to 
satisfy  the  curiosity  of  his  master.  He  had  indeed 
sought  the  page  Villani,  but  the  imperious  manner  of 
that  wayward  and  haughty  boy  had  cut  short  all  at- 
tempts at  cross-examination.  And  all  he  could  ascer- 
tain was,  that  the  real  Angelo  Villani  was  not  the  An- 
gelo  Villani  who  had  visited  Rienzi. 

Trusting  at  last  that  he  should  learn  all,  and  inflamed 
by  such  passion  and  such  hope  as  he  was  capable  of 
feeling,  Albornoz,  now  took  his  way  to  the  Cesarini's 
palace. 

He  was  ushered  with  due  state  into  the  apartment 
of  the  Signora.  He  found  her  pale,  and  with  the 
traces  of  illness  upon  her  noble  and  statue-like  fea- 
tures. She  rose  as  he  entered;  and  when  he  ap- 
proached, she  half  bent  her  knee,  and  raised  his  hand 
to  her  lips.  Surprised  and  delighted  at  a  reception  so 
new,  the  Cardinal  hastened  to  prevent  the  condescen- 
sion ;  retaining  both  her  hands,  he  attempted  gently  to 
draw  them  to  his  heart. 

"  Fairest !  "  he  whispered,  "  couldst  thou  know  how 
I  have  mourned  thy  illness — and  yet  it  has  but  left  thee 
more  lovely,  as  the  rain  only  brightens  the  flower. 
Ah !  happy  if  I  have  promoted  thy  lightest  wish,  and 
if  in  thine  eyes  I  may  henceforth  seek  at  once  an  angel 
to  guide  me  and  a  paradise  to  reward." 

Nina,  releasing  her  hand,  waved  it  gently,  and  mo- 
tioned the  Cardinal  to  a  seat.  Seating  herself  at  a  lit- 
tle distance,  she  then  spoke  with  great  gravity  and 
downcast  eyes. 

"  My  Lord,  it  is  your  intercession,  joined  to  his  own 
innocence,  that  has  released  from  yonder  tower  the 


476  RIENZI 

elected  governor  of  the  people  of  Rome.  But  free- 
dom is  the  least  of  the  generous  gifts  that  you  have 
conferred ;  there  is  a  greater  in  a  fair  name  vindicated, 
and  rightful  honours  re-bestowed.  For  this,  I  rest 
ever  your  debtor ;  for  this,  if  I  bear  children,  they  shall 
be  taught  to  bless  your  name ;  for  this  the  historian 
who  recalls  the  deeds  of  this  age,  and  the  fortunes  of 
Cola  di  Rienzi,  shall  add  a  new  chaplet  to  the  wreaths 
you  have  already  won.  Lord  Cardinal,  I  may  have 
erred.  I  may  have  offended  you — you  may  accuse  me 
of  woman's  artifice.  Speak  not,  wonder  not,  hear  me 
out.  I  have  but  one  excuse,  when  I  say  that  I  held 
justified  any  means  short  of  dishonour,  to  save  the  life 
and  restore  the  fortunes  of  Cola  di  Rienzi.  Know,  my 
Lord,  that  she  who  now  addresses  you  is  his  wife." 

The  Cardinal  remained  motionless  and  silent.  But 
his  sallow  countenance  grew  flushed  from  the  brow  to 
the  neck,  and  his  thin  lips  quivered  for  a  moment,  and 
then  broke  into  a  withering  and  bitter  smile.  At 
length  he  rose  from  his  seat,  very  slowly,  and  said,  in 
a  voice  trembling  with  passion, 

"  It  is  well,  madam.  Giles  d'Albornoz  has  been, 
then,  a  puppet  in  the  hands,  a  stepping-stone  in  the 
rise,  of  the  plebeian  demagogue  of  Rome.  You  but 
played  upon  me  for  your  own  purposes ;  and  nothing 
short  of  a  Cardinal  of  Spain,  and  a  Prince  of  the  royal 
blood  of  Aragon,  was  meet  to  be  the  instrument  of  a 
mountebank's  juggle !  Madam,  yourself  and  your 
husband  might  justly  be  accused  of  ambition " 

"  Cease,  my  Lord,"  said  Nina,  with  unspeakable 
dignity ;  "  whatever  offence  has  been  committed 
against  you  was  mine  alone.  Till  after  our  last  inter- 
view, Rienzi  knew  not  even  of  my  presence  at  Avi- 
gnon." 


"  I  have  fulfilled  my  part — I  claim  yours." 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES        477 

"  At  our  last  interview,  Lady,  (you  do  well  to  recall 
it !)  methinks  there  was  a  hinted  and  implied  contract. 
I  have  fulfilled  my  part — I  claim  yours.  Mark  me !  I 
do  not  forego  that  claim.  As  easily  as  I  rend  this 
glove  can  I  rend  the  parchment  which  proclaims  thy 
husband  '  the  Senator  of  Rome.'  The  dungeon  is  not 
death,  and  its  door  will  open  twice." 

"  My  Lord — my  Lord !  "  cried  Nina,  sick  with  ter- 
ror, "  wrong  not  so  your  noble  nature,  your  great 
name,  your  sacred  rank,  your  chivalric  blood.  You 
are  of  the  knightly  race  of  Spain,  yours  not  the  sullen, 
low,  and  inexorable  vices  that  stain  the  petty  tyrants 
of  this  unhappy  land.  You  are  no  Visconti — no  Cas- 
tracani — you  cannot  stain  your  laurels  with  revenge 
upon  a  woman.  Hear  me,"  she  continued,  and  she 
fell  abruptly  at  his  feet ;  "  men  dupe,  deceive  our  sex 
— and  for  selfish  purposes ;  they  are  pardoned — even 
by  their  victims.  Did  /  deceive  you  with  a  false  hope  ? 
Well — what  my  object? — what  my  excuse?  My  hus- 
band's liberty — my  land's  salvation  !  Woman, — my 
Lord,  alas,  your  sex  too  rarely  understand  her  weak- 
ness or  her  greatness !  Erring — all  human  as  she  is 
to  others — God  gifts  her  with  a  thousand  virtues  to  the 
one  she  loves !  It  is  from  that  love  that  she  alone 
drinks  her  nobler  nature.  For  the  hero  of  her  wor- 
ship she  has  the  meekness  of  the  dove — the  devotion 
of  the  saint;  for  his  safety  in  peril,  for  his  rescue  in 
misfortune,  her  vain  sense  imbibes  the  sagacity  of  the 
serpent — her  weak  heart,  the  courage  of  the  lioness! 
It  is  this  which,  in  absence,  made  me  mask  my  face  in 
smiles,  that  the  friends  of  the  houseless  exile  might  not 
despair  of  his  fate — it  is  this  which  brought  me 
through  forests  beset  with  robbers,  to  watch  the  stars 
upon  yon  solitary  tower — it  was  this  which  led  my 


478  RIENZI 

steps  to  the  revels  of  your  hated  court — this  which 
made  me  seek  a  deliverer  in  the  noblest  of  its  chiefs — 
it  is  this  which  has  at  last  opened  the  dungeon  door  to 
the  prisoner  now  within  your  halls ;  and  this,  Lord 
Cardinal,"  added  Nina,  rising,  and  folding  her  arms 
upon  her  heart — "  this,  if  your  anger  seeks  a  victim, 
will  inspire  me  to  die  without  a  groan, — but  without 
dishonour! " 

Albornoz  remained  rooted  to  the  ground.  Amaze- 
ment— emotion — admiration — all  busy  at  his  heart. 
He  gazed  at  Nina's  flashing  eyes  and  heaving  bosom 
as  a  warrior  of  old  upon  a  prophetess  inspired.  His 
eyes  were  riveted  to  hers  as  by  a  spell.  He  tried  to 
speak,  but  his  voice  failed  him.  Nina  continued : 

"  Yes,  my  Lord ;  these  are  no  idle  words !  If  you 
seek  revenge,  it  is  in  your  power.  Undo  what  you 
have  done.  Give  Rienzi  back  to  the  dungeon,  or  to 
disgrace,  and  you  are  avenged ;  but  not  on  him.  All 
the  hearts  of  Italy  shall  become  to  him  a  second  Nina ! 
I  am  the  guilty  one,  and  I  the  sufferer.  Hear  me 
swear — in  that  instant  which  sees  new  wrong  to  Rienzi, 
this  hand  is  my  executioner. — My  Lord,  I  supplicate 
you  no  longer !  " 

Albornoz  continued  deeply  moved.  Nina  but  right- 
ly judged  him,  when  she  distinguished  the  aspiring 
Spaniard  from  the  barbarous  and  unrelenting  voluptu- 
aries of  Italy.  Despite  the  profligacy  that  stained  his 
sacred  robe — despite  all  the  acquired  and  increasing 
callousness  of  a  hard,  scheming,  and  sceptical  man, 
cast  amidst  the  worst  natures  of  the  worst  of  times — 
there  lingered  yet  in  his  soul  much  of  the  knightly 
honour  of  his  race  and  country.  High  thoughts  and 
daring  spirits  touched  a  congenial  string  in  his  heart, 
and  not  the  less,  in  that  he  had  but  rarely  met  them  in 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES        479 

his  experience  of  camps  and  courts.  For  the  first  time 
in  his  life,  he  felt  that  he  had  seen  the  woman  who 
could  have  contented  him  even  with  wedlock,  and 
taught  him  the  proud  and  faithful  love  of  which  the 
minstrels  of  Spain  had  sung.  He  sighed,  and  still 
gazing  on  Nina,  approached  her,  almost  reverentially ; 
he  knelt  and  kissed  the  hem  of  her  robe.  "  Lady," 
he  said,  "  I  would  I  could  believe  that  you  have  alto- 
gether read  my  nature  aright,  but  I  were  indeed  lost 
to  all  honour,  and  unworthy  of  gentle  birth,  if  I  still 
harboured  a  single  thought  against  the  peace  and  vir- 
tue of  one  like  thee.  Sweet  heroine," — he  continued 
— "  so  lovely,  yet  so  pure — so  haughty,  and  yet  so 
soft — thou  hast  opened  to  me  the  brightest  page  these 
eyes  have  ever  scanned  in  the  blotted  volume  of  man- 
kind. Mayest  thou  have  such  happiness  as  life  can 
give ;  but  souls  such  as  thine  make  their  nest  like  the 
eagle,  upon  rocks  and  amidst  the  storms.  Fear  me  no 
more — think  of  me  no  more — unless  hereafter,  when 
thou  hearest  men  speak  of  Giles  d'Albornoz,  thou  may- 
est  say  in  thine  own  heart," — and  here  the  Cardinal's 
lip  curled  with  scorn — "  he  did  not  renounce  every 
feeling  worthy  of  a  man,  when  Ambition  and  Fate  en- 
dued him  with  the  surplice  of  the  priest." 

The  Spaniard  was  gone  before  Nina  could  reply. 


BOOK   VIII 

THE  GRAND  COMPANY 

"  Montreal   nourrissoit   de   plus   vastes   projets    .    .    .    .    il 

donnoit  a  sa  campagnie  un  gouvernement  regulier 

Par  cette  discipline  il  faisoit  regner  1'abondance  dans  son 
camp:  les  gens  de  guerre  ne  parloient,  en  Italic,  que  des 
richesses  qu'on  acqueroit  a  son  service." — SISMONDI,  Hist, 
des  Republiques  Italiennes,  torn.  vi.  c.  42. 

"  Montreal  cherished  more  vast  designs  ...  he  sub- 
jected his  company  to  a  regular  system  of  government. 
....  By  means  of  this  discipline  he  kept  his  camp  abun- 
dantly supplied,  and  military  adventurers  in  Italy  talked  of 
nothing  but  the  wealth  won  in  his  service." — SISMONDI'S 
Hist,  of  Hal  Republics. 


CHAPTER   I 

THE    ENCAMPMENT 

It  was  a  most  lovely  day,  in  the  very  glow  and 
meridian  of  an  Italian  summer,  when  a  small  band  of 
horsemen  were  seen  winding  a  hill  which  commanded 
one  of  the  fairest  landscapes  of  Tuscany.  At  their 
head  was  a  Cavalier  in  a  complete  suit  of  chain  armour, 
the  links  of  which  were  so  fine,  that  they  resembled 
a  delicate  and  curious  network,  but  so  strongly  com- 
pacted, that  they  would  have  resisted  spear  or  sword 
no  less  effectually  than  the  heaviest  corselet,  while 
adapting  themselves  exactly  and  with  ease  to  every 
movement  of  the  light  and  graceful  shape  of  the  rider. 
He  wore  a  hat  of  dark  green  velvet  shaded  by  long 
480 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES        481 

plumes,  while  of  two  squires  behind,  the  one  bore  his 
helmet  and  lance,  the  other  led  a  strong  war-horse, 
completely  cased  in  plates  of  mail,  which  seemed,  how- 
ever, scarcely  to  encumber  its  proud  and  agile  paces. 
The  countenance  of  the  Cavalier  was  comely,  but 
strongly  marked,  and  darkened,  by  long  exposure  to 
the  suns  of  many  climes,  to  a  deep  bronze  hue :  a  few 
raven  ringlets  escaped  from  beneath  his  hat  down  a 
cheek  closely  shaven.  The  expression  of  his  features 
was  grave  and  composed  even  to  sadness ;  nor  could 
all  the  loveliness  of  the  unrivalled  scene  before  him 
dispel  the  quiet  and  settled  melancholy  of  his  eyes. 
Besides  the  squire,  ten  horsemen,  armed  cap-a-pie,  at- 
tended the  knight;  and  the  low  and  murmured  con- 
versation they  carried  on  at  intervals,  as  well  as  their 
long  fair  hair,  large  stature,  thick  short  beards,  and  the 
studied  and  accurate  equipment  of  their  arms  and 
steeds,  bespoke  them  of  a  hardier  and  more  warlike 
race  than  the  children  of  the  south.'  The  cavalcade 
was  closed  with  a  man  almost  of  gigantic  height,  bear- 
ing a  banner  richly  decorated,  wherein  was  wrought 
a  column,  with  the  inscript:on,  "  ALONE  AMIDST 
RUINS."  Fair  indeed  was  the  prospect  which  with 
every  step  expanded  yet  more  widely  its  various 
beauty.  Right  before  stretched  a  long  vale,  now  cov- 
ered with  green  woodlands  glittering  in  the  yellow 
sunlight,  now  opening  into  narrow  plains  bordered  by 
hillocks,  from  whose  mosses  of  all  hues  grew  fantastic 
and  odorous  shrubs ;  while,  winding  amidst  them,  a 
broad  and  silver  stream  broke  into  light  at  frequent 
intervals,  snatched  by  wood  and  hillock  from  the  eye, 
only  to  steal  upon  it  again,  in  sudden  and  bright  sur- 
prise. The  opposite  slope  of  gentle  mountains,  as  well 
as  that  which  the  horsemen  now  descended,  was  cov- 
31 


482  RIENZI 

ered  with  vineyards,  trained  in  alleys  and  arcades :  and 
the  clustering  grape  laughed  from  every  leafy  and 
glossy  covert,  as  gaily  as  when  the  Fauns  held  a  holy- 
day  in  the  shade.  The  eye  of  the  Cavalier  roved  list- 
lessly over  this  enchanting  prospect,  sleeping  in  the 
rosiest  light  of  a  Tuscan  heaven,  and  then  became 
fixed  with  a  more  earnest  attention  on  the  gray  and 
frowning  walls  of  a  distant  castle,  which,  high  upon 
the  steepest  of  the  opposite  mountains,  overlooked  the 
valley. 

"  Behold,"  he  muttered  to  himself,  "  how  every 
Eden  in  Italy  hath  its  curse!  Wherever  the  land 
smiles  fairest,  be  sure  to  find  the  brigand's  tent  and 
the  tyrant's  castle !  " 

Scarce  had  these  thoughts  passed  his  mind,  ere  the 
shrill  and  sudden  blast  of  a  bugle  that  sounded  close 
amongst  the  vineyards  by  the  side  of  the  path,  startled 
the  whole  group.  The  cavalcade  halted  abruptly. 
The  leader  mad"e  a  gesture  to  the  squire  who  led  his 
war-horse.  The  noble  and  practised  animal  remained 
perfectly  still,  save  by  champing  its  bit  restlessly,  and 
moving  its  quick  ear  to  and  fro,  as  aware  of  a  com- 
ing danger, — while  the  squire,  unencumbered  by  the 
heavy  armour  of  the  Germans,  plunged  into  the 
thicket  and  disappeared.  He  returned  in  a  few  min- 
utes, already  heated  and  breathless. 

"  We  must  be  on  our  guard,"  he  whispered ;  "  I  see 
the  glimmer  of  steel  through  the  vine  leaves." 

"  Our  ground  is  unhappily  chosen,"  said  the  Knight, 
hastily  bracing  on  his  helmet  and  leaping  on  his 
charger;  and  waving  his  hand  towards  a  broader 
space  in  the  road,  which  would  permit  the  horse- 
men more  room  to  act  in  union,  with  his  small 
band  he  made  hastily  to  the  spot — the  armour  of 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES        483 

the  soldiers  rattling  heavily  as  two  by  two  they  pro- 
ceeded on. 

The  space  to  which  the  Cavalier  had  pointed  was 
a  green  semicircle  of  several  yards  in  extent,  backed 
by  tangled  copses  of  brushwood  sloping  down  to  the 
vale  below.  They  reached  it  in  safety;  they  drew  up 
breast  to  breast  in  the  form  of  a  crescent :  every  visor 
closed  save  that  of  the  Knight,  who  looked  anxiously 
and  keenly  round  the  landscape. 

"  Hast  thou  heard,  Giulio,"  he  said,  to  his  favourite 
squire,  (the  only  Italian  of  the  band,)  "  whether  any 
brigands  have  been  seen  lately  in  these  parts  ?  " 

"  No,  my  Lord ;  on  the  contrary,  I  am  told  that 
every  lance  hath  left  the  country  to  join  the  Grand 
Company  of  Fra  Moreale.  The  love  of  his  pay  and 
plunder  has  drawn  away  the  mercenaries  of  every  Tus- 
can Signor." 

As  he  ceased  speaking,  the  bugle  sounded  again 
from  nearly  the  same  spot  as  before ;  it  was  answered 
by  a  brief  and  martial  note  from  the  very  rear  of  the 
horsemen.  At  the  same  moment,  from  the  thickets 
behind,  broke  the  gleam  of  mail  and  spears.  One 
after  another,  rank  after  rank,  from  the  copse  behind 
them,  emerged  men-at-arms,  while  suddenly,  from  the 
vines  in  front,  still  greater  numbers  poured  forth  with 
loud  and  fierce  shouts. 

"  For  God,  for  the  Emperor,  and  for  the  Colonna !  " 
cried  the  Knight,  closing  his  visor;  and  the  little  band, 
closely  serried,  the  lance  in  every  rest,  broke  upon  the 
rush  of  the  enemy  in  front.  A  score  or  so,  borne  to 
the  ground  by  the  charge,  cleared  a  path  for  the  horse- 
men, and,  without  waiting  the  assault  of  the  rest,  the 
Knight  wheeled  his  charger  and  led  the  way  down  the 
hill,  almost  at  full  gallop,  despite  the  roughness  of 


484  RIENZI 

the  descent:  a  flight  of  arrows  despatched  after  them 
fell  idly  on  their  iron  mail. 

"  If  they  have  no  horse,"  cried  the  Knight,  "  we 
are  saved !  " 

And,  indeed,  the  enemy  seemed  scarcely  to  think 
of  pursuing  them ;  but  (gathered  on  the  brow  of  a  hill) 
appeared  contented  to  watch  their  flight. 

Suddenly  a  curve  in  the  road  brought  them  before 
a  broad  and  white  patch  of  waste  land,  which  formed 
almost  a  level  surface,  interrupting  the  descent  of  the 
mountain.  On  the  commencement  of  this  waste, 
drawn  up  in  still  array,  the  sunlight  broke  on  the 
breastplates  of  a  long  line  of  horsemen,  whom  the 
sinuosities  of  the  road  had  hitherto  concealed  from  the 
Knight  and  his  party. 

The  little  troop  halted  abruptly — retreat — advance 
alike  cut  off;  gazing  first  at  the  foe  before  them,  that 
remained  still  as  a  cloud,  every  eye  was  then  turned 
towards  the  Knight. 

"  An  thou  wouldst,  my  Lord,"  said  the  leader  of 
the  Northmen,  perceiving  the  irresolution  of  their 
chief,  "  we  will  fight  to  the  last.  You  are  the  only 
Italian  I  ever  knew  whom  I  would  willingly  die 
for !  " 

This  rude  profession  was  received  with  a  sympa- 
thetic murmur  from  the  rest,  and  the  soldiers  drew 
closer  around  the  Knight.  "  Nay,  my  brave  fellows," 
said  the  Colonna,  lifting  his  visor,  "  it  is  not  in  so 
inglorious  a  field,  after  such  various  fortunes,  that  we 
are  doomed  to  perish.  If  these  be  brigands,  as  we 
must  suppose,  we  can  yet  purchase  our  way.  If  the 
troops  of  some  signer,  we  are  strangers  to  the  feud 
in  which  he  is  engaged.  Give  me  yon  banner — I  will 
ride  on  to  them." 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES        485 

"  Nay,  my  Lord,"  said  Giulio ;  "  such  marauders 
do  not  always  spare  a  flag  of  truce.  There  is  dan- 
ger  " 

"  For  that  reason  your  leader  braves  it.     Quick !  " 

The  Knight  took  the  banner,  and  rode  deliberately 
up  to  the  horsemen.  On  approaching,  his  warlike  eye 
could  not  but  admire  the  perfect  caparison  of  their 
arms,  the  strength  and  beauty  of  their  steeds,  and  the 
steady  discipline  of  their  long  and  glittering  line. 

As  he  rode  up,  and  his  gorgeous  banner  gleamed 
in  the  moonlight,  the  soldiers  saluted  him.  It  was  a 
good  omen,  and  he  hailed  it  as  such.  "  Fair  sirs," 
said  the  Knight,  "  I  come,  at  once  herald  and  leader  of 
the  little  band  who  have  just  escaped  the  unlooked-for 
assault  of  armed  men  on  yonder  hill — and,  claiming 
aid,  as  knight  from  knight,  and  soldier  from  soldier, 
I  place  my  troop  under  the  protection  of  your  leader. 
Suffer  me  to  see  him." 

"  Sir  Knight,"  answered  one,  who  seemed  the  cap- 
tain of  the  band,  "  sorry  am  I  to  detain  one  of  your 
gallant  bearing,  and  still  more  so,  on  recognising  the 
device  of  one  of  the  most  potent  houses  of  Italy.  But 
our  orders  are  strict,  and  we  must  bring  all  armed  men 
to  the  camp  of  our  General." 

"  Long  absent  from  my  native  land,  I  knew  not," 
replied  the  Knight,  "  that  there  was  war  in  Tuscany. 
Permit  me  to  crave  the  name  of  the  General  whom 
you  speak  of,  and  that  of  the  foe  against  whom  ye 
march." 

The  Captain  smiled  slightly. 

"  Walter  de  Montreal  is  the  General  of  the  Grand 
Company,  and  Florence  his  present  foe." 

"  We  have  fallen,  then,  into  friendly,  if  fierce, 
hands,"  replied  the  Knight,  after  a  moment's  pause. 


486  RIENZI 

"  To  Sir  Walter  de  Montreal  I  am  known  of  old.  Per- 
mit me  to  return  to  my  companions,  and  acquaint 
them  that  if  accident  has  made  us  prisoners,  it  is,  at 
least,  only  to  the  most  skilful  warrior  of  his  day  that 
we  are  condemned  to  yield." 

The  Italian  then  turned  his  horse  to  join  his  com- 
rades. 

"  A  fair  knight  and  a  bold  presence,"  said  the  Cap- 
tain of  the  Companions  to  his  neighbour,  "  though  I 
scarce  think  it  is  the  party  we  are  ordered  to  inter- 
cept. Praised  be  the  Virgin,  however,  his  men  seem 
from  the  North.  Them,  perhaps,  we  may  hope  to 
enlist." 

The  Knight  now,  with  his  comrades,  rejoined  the 
troop.  And,  on  receiving  their  parole  not  to  attempt 
escape,  a  detachment  of  thirty  horsemen  were  des- 
patched to  conduct  the  prisoners  to  the  encampment 
of  the  Grand  Company. 

Turning  from  the  main  road,  the  Knight  found  him- 
self conducted  into  a  narrow  defile  between  the  hills, 
which,  succeeded  by  a  gloomy  track  of  wild  forest- 
land,  brought  the  party  at  length  into  a  full  and  abrupt 
view  of  a  wide  plain,  covered  with  the  tents  of  what, 
for  Italian  warfare,  was  considered  a  mighty  army. 
A  stream,  over  which  rude  and  hasty  bridges  had  been 
formed  from  the  neighbouring  timber,  alone  separated 
the  horsemen  from  the  encampment. 

"  A  noble  sight ! "  said  the  captive  Cavalier,  with 
enthusiasm,  as  he  reined  in  his  steed,  and  gazed  upon 
the  wild  and  warlike  streets  of  canvas,  traversing  each 
other  in  vistas  broad  and  regular. 

One  of  the  captains  of  the  Grand  Company  who 
rode  beside  him,  smiled  complacently. 

"  There  are  few  masters  of  the  martial  art  who  equal 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES        487 

Fra  Moreale,"  said  he ;  "  and  savage,  reckless,  and 
gathered  from  all  parts  and  all  countries — from  cavern 
and  from  market-place,  from  prison  and  from  palace, 
as  are  his  troops,  he  has  reduced  them  already  into  a 
discipline  which  might  shame  even  the  soldiery  of  the 
Empire." 

The  Knight  made  no  reply ;  but,  spurring  his  horse 
over  one  of  the  rugged  bridges,  soon  found  himself 
amidst  the  encampment.  But  that  part  at  which  he 
entered,  little  merited  the  praises  bestowed  upon  the 
discipline  of  the  army.  A  more  unruly  and  disorderly 
array,  the  Cavalier,  accustomed  to  the  stern  regularity 
of  English,  French,  and  German  discipline,  thought 
he  had  never  beheld :  here  and  there,  fierce,  unshaven, 
half-naked  brigands  might  be  seen,  driving  before 
them  the  cattle  which  they  had  just  collected  by  pred- 
atory excursions.  Sometimes  a  knot  of  dissolute 
women  stood — chattering,  scolding,  gesticulating — 
collected  round  groups  of  wild  shagged  Northmen, 
who,  despite  the  bright  purity  of  the  summer-noon, 
were  already  engaged  in  deep  potations.  Oaths  and 
laughter,  and  drunken  merriment,  and  fierce  brawl, 
rang  from  side  to  side ;  and  ever  and  anon  some  hasty 
conflict  with  drawn  knives  was  begun  and  finished  by 
the  fiery  and  savage  bravoes  of  Calabria  or  the  Apen- 
nines, before  the  very  eyes  and  almost  in  the  very 
path  of  the  troop.  Tumblers,  and  mountebanks,  and 
jugglers,  and  Jew  pedlers,  were  exhibiting  their  tricks 
or  their  wares  at  every  interval,  apparently  well  inured 
to  the  lawless  and  turbulent  market  in  which  they  ex- 
ercised their  several  callings.  Despite  the  protection 
of  the  horsemen  who  accompanied  them,  the  prisoners 
were  not  allo\ved  to  pass  without  molestation.  Groups 
of  urchins,  squalid,  fierce,  and  ragged,  seemed  to  start 


488  RIENZI 

from  the  ground,  and  surrounded  their  horses  like 
swarms  of  bees,  uttering  the  most  discordant  cries; 
and,  with  the  gestures  of  savages,  rather  demanding 
than  beseeching  money,  which,  when  granted,  seemed 
only  to  render  them  more  insatiable.  While,  some- 
times mingled  with  the  rest,  were  seen  the  bright  eyes 
and  olive  cheek,  and  half-pleading,  half-laughing  smile 
of  girls,  whose  extreme  youth,  scarce  emerged  from 
childhood,  rendered  doubly  striking  their  utter  and  un- 
redeemed abandonment. 

"  You  did  not  exaggerate  the  decorum  of  the  Grand 
Company !  "  cried  the  Knight,  gravely,  to  his  new  ac- 
quaintance. 

"  Signer,"  replied  the  other,  "  you  must  not  judge 
of  the  kernel  by  the  shell.  We  are  scarcely  yet  ar- 
rived at  the  camp.  These  are  the  outskirts,  occupied 
rather  by  the  rabble  than  the  soldiers.  Twenty  thou- 
sand men  from  the  sink,  it  must  be  owned,  of  every 
town  in  Italy,  follow  the  camp,  to  fight  if  necessary, 
but  rather  for  plunder,  and  for  forage  : — such  you  now 
behold.  Presently,  you  will  see  those  of  another 
stamp." 

The  Knight's  heart  swelled  high.  "  And  to  such 
men  is  Italy  given  up !  "  thought  he.  His  reverie  was 
broken  by  a  loud  burst  of  applause  from  some  convi- 
vialists  hard  by.  He  turned,  and  under  a  long  tent, 
and  round  a  board  covered  with  wine  and  viands,  sate 
some  thirty  or  forty  bravoes.  A  ragged  minstrel,  or 
jongleur,  with  an  immense  beard  and  mustachios,  was 
tuning,  with  no  inconsiderable  skill,  a  lute  which  had 
accompanied  him  in  all  his  wanderings — and  suddenly 
changing  its  notes  into  a  wild  and  warlike  melody,  he 
commenced  in  a  loud  and  deep  voice  the  following 
song :— 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES       489 


THE  PRAISE  OF  THE  GRAND  COMPANY 

i 
Ho,  dark  one  from  the  golden  South, — 

Ho,  fair  one  from  the  North; 
Ho,  coat  of  mail  and  spear  of  sheen — 

Ho,  wherefore  ride  ye  forth? 
"  We  come  from  mount,  we  come  from  cave, 

We  come  across  the  sea, 
In  long  array,  in  bright  array, 
To  Montreal's  Companie." 
Oh,  the  merry,  merry  band, 
Light  heart,  and  heavy  hand — 
Oh,  the  Lances  of  the  Free! 


Ho,  Princes  of  the  castled  height — 

Ho,  burghers  of  the  town; 
Apulia's  strength,  Romagna's  pride, 

And  Tusca's  old  renown! 
Why  quail  ye  thus?  why  pale  ye  thus? 

What  spectre  do  ye  see? 
"  The  blood-red  flag,  and  trampling  march 
Of  Montreal's  Companie." 
Oh,  the  sunshine  of  your  life — 
Oh,  the  thunders  of  your  strife! 
Wild  Lances  of  the  Free! 

3 

Ho,  scutcheons  o'er  the  vaulted  tomb 

Where  Norman  valour  sleeps, 
Why  shake  ye  so?  why  quake  ye  so? 

What  wind  the  trophy  sweeps? 
"  We  shake  without  a  breath — below, 

The  dead  are  stirred  to  see, 
The  Norman's  fame  revived  again 
In  Montreal's  Companie." 
Since  Roger  won  his  crown, 
Who  hath  equalled  your  renown, 
Brave  Lances  of  the  Free? 


490  RIENZI 

4 
Ho,  ye  who  seek  to  win  a  name, 

Where  deeds  are  bravest  done — 
Ho,  ye  who  wish  to  pile  a  heap, 

Where  gold  is  lightest  won; 
Ho,  ye  who  loathe  the  stagnant  life, 

Or  shun  the  law's  decree, 
Belt  on  the  brand,  and  spur  the  steed, 
To  Montreal's  Companie. 
And  the  maid  shall  share  her  rest, 
And  the  miser  share  his  chest, 
With  the  Lances  of  the  Free! 
The  Free! 
The  Free! 
Oh!  the  Lances  of  the  Free! 

Then  suddenly,  as  if  inspired  to  a  wilder  flight  by 
his  own  minstrelsy,  the  jongleur,  sweeping  his  hand 
over  the  chords,  broke  forth  into  an  air  admirably  ex- 
pressive of  the  picture  which  his  words,  running  into 
a  rude,  but  lively  and  stirring  doggerel,  attempted  to 
paint. 

THE  MARCH  OF  THE  GRAND  COMPANY 

Tira,  tirala. — trumpet  and  drum — 

Rising  bright  o'er  the  height  of  the  mountain  they  come! 

German,  and  Hun,  and  the  Islandrie, 

Who  routed  the  Frenchman  at  famed  Cressie, 

When  the  rose  changed  its  hue  with  the  fleur-de-lis; 

With  the  Roman,  and  Lombard,  and  Picdmontese, 

And  the  dark-haired  son  of  the  southern  seas. 

Tira,  tirala — more  near  and  near 

Down  the  steep — see  them  sweep; — rank  by  rank  they  appear! 

With  the  Cloud  of  the  Crowd  hanging  dark  at  their  rear — 

Serried,  and  steadied,  and  orderlie, 

Like  the  course — like  the  force — of  a  marching  sea! 

Open  your  gates  and  out  with  your  gold, 

For  the  blood  must  be  spilt,  or  the  ransom  be  told! 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES        491 

Woe,  Burghers,  woe!     Behold  them  led 

By  the  stoutest  arm  and  the  wisest  head, 

With  the  snow-white  cross  on  the  cloth  of  red; — 

With  the  eagle  eye,  and  the  lion  port, 

His  barb  for  a  throne,  and  his  camp  for  a  court: 

Sovereign  and  scourge  of  the  land  is  he — 

The  kingly  Knight  of  the  Companie! 

Hurrah — hurrah — hurrah ! 
Hurrah  for  the  army — hurrah  for  its  lord — 
Hurrah  for  the  gold  that  is  got  by  the  sword — 

Hurrah — hurrah — hurrah ! 

For  the  Lances  of  the  Free! 

Shouted  by  the  full  chorus  of  those  desperate  boon- 
companions,  and  caught  up  and  re-echoed  from  side 
to  side,  near  and  far,  as  the  familiar  and  well-known 
words  of  the  burthen  reached  the  ears  of  more  distant 
groups  or  stragglers,  the  effect  of  this  fierce  and  licen- 
tious minstrelsy  was  indescribable.  It  was  impossible 
not  to  feel  the  zest  which  that  daring  life  imparted  to 
its  daring  followers,  and  even  the  gallant  and  stately 
Knight  who  listened  to  it,  reproved  himself  for  an  in- 
voluntary thrill  of  sympathy  and  pleasure. 

He  turned  with  some  impatience  and  irritation  to 
his  companion,  who  had  taken  a  part  in  the  chorus, 
and  said,  "  Sir,  to  the  ears  of  an  Italian  noble,  con- 
scious of  the  miseries  of  his  country,  this  ditty  is  not 
welcome.  I  pray  you,  let  us  proceed." 

"  I  humbly  crave  your  pardon,  Signer,"  said  the 
Free  Companion ;  "  but  really  so  attractive  is  the  life 
led  by  Free  Lances,  under  Fra  Moreale,  that  some- 
times we  forget  the ;  but  pardon  me,  we  will  on." 

A  few  moments  more,  and  bounding  over  a  narrow 
circumvallation,  the  party  found  themselves  in  a  quar- 
ter, animated  indeed,  but  of  a  wholly  different  charac- 
ter of  animation.  Long  lines  of  armed  men  were 


492  RIENZI 

drawn  up  on  either  side  of  a  path,  conducting  to  a 
large  marquee,  placed  upon  a  little  hillock,  surmounted 
by  a  blue  flag,  and  up  this  path  armed  soldiers  were 
passing  to  and  fro  with  great  order,  but  with  a  pleased 
and  complacent  expression  upon  their  swarthy  fea- 
tures. Some  that  repaired  to  the  marquee  were  bear- 
ing packets  and  bales  upon  their  shoulders — those  that 
returned  seemed  to  have  got  rid  of  their  burthens, 
but  every  now  and  then,  impatiently  opening  their 
hands,  appeared  counting  and  recounting  to  them- 
selves the  coins  contained  therein. 

The  Knight  looked  inquiringly  at  his  companion. 

"  It  is  the  marquee  of  the  merchants,"  said  the  cap- 
tain ;  "  they  have  free  admission  to  the  camp,  and  their 
property  and  persons  are  rigidly  respected.  They  pur- 
chase each  soldier's  share  of  the  plunder  at  fair  prices, 
and  either  party  is  contented  with  the  bargain." 

"  It  seems,  then,  that  there  is  some  kind  of  rude 
justice  observed  amongst  you,"  said  the  Knight. 

"Rude!  Diavolo!  Not  a  town  in  Italy  but  would 
be  glad  of  such  even  justice,  and  such  impartial  laws. 
Yonder  lie  the  tents  of  the  judges,  appointed  to  try  all 
offences  of  soldier  against  soldier.  To  the  right,  the 
tent  with  the  golden  ball  contains  the  treasurer  of 
the  army.  Fra  Moreale  incurs  no  arrears  with  his 
soldiery." 

It  was,  indeed,  by  these  means  that  the  Knight  of 
St.  John  had  collected  the  best  equipped  and  the  best 
contented  force  in  Italy.  Every  day  brought  him  re- 
cruits. Nothing  was  spoken  of  amongst  the  mercena- 
ries of  Italy  but  the  wealth  acquired  in  his  service, 
and  every  warrior  in  the  pay  of  Republic  or  of  Tyrant 
sighed  for  the  lawless  standard  of  Fra  Moreale. 
Already  had  exaggerated  tales  of  the  fortunes  to  be 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES        493 

made  in  the  ranks  of  the  Great  Company  passed  the 
Alps ;  and,  even  now,  the  Knight,  penetrating  farther 
into  the  camp,  beheld  from  many  a  tent  the  proud 
banners  and  armorial  blazon  of  German  nobility  and 
Gallic  knighthood. 

"  You  see,"  said  the  Free  Companion,  pointing  to 
these  insignia,  "  we  are  not  without  our  different  ranks 
in  our  wild  city.  And  while  we  speak,  many  a  golden 
spur  is  speeding  hitherward  from  the  North !  " 

All  now  in  the  quarter  they  had  entered  was  still 
and  solemn ;  only  afar  came  the  mingled  hum,  or  the 
sudden  shout  of  the  pandemonium  in  the  rear,  mel- 
lowed by  distance  to  a  not  unpleasing  sound.  An  oc- 
casional soldier,  crossing  their  path,  stalked  silently 
and  stealthily  to  some  neighbouring  tent,  and  seemed 
scarcely  to  regard  their  approach. 

"  Behold !  we  are  before  the  General's  pavilion," 
said  the  Free  Lance. 

Blazoned  with  purple  and  gold,  the  tent  of  Montreal 
lay  a  little  apart  from  the  rest.  A  brooklet  from  the 
stream  they  had  crossed  murmured  gratefully  on  the 
ear,  and  a  tall  and  wide-spreading  beech  cast  its 
shadow  over  the  gorgeous  canvas. 

While  his  troop  waited  without,  the  Knight  was  con- 
ducted at  once  to  the  presence  of  the  formidable  ad- 
venturer. 


CHAPTER    II 

ADRIAN    ONCE    MORE   THE    GUEST    OF   MONTREAL 

Montreal  was  sitting  at  the  head  of  a  table,  sur- 
rounded by  men,  some  military,  some  civil,  whom  he 
called  his  councillors,  and  with  whom  he  apparently 


494  RIENZI 

debated  all  his  projects.  These  men,  drawn  from 
various  cities,  were  intimately  acquainted  with  the  in- 
ternal affairs  of  the  several  states  to  which  they  be- 
longed. They  could  tell  to  a  fraction  the  force  of  a 
signer,  the  wealth  of  a  merchant,  the  power  of  a  mob. 
And  thus,  in  his  lawless  camp,  Montreal  presided,  not 
more  as  a  general  than  a  statesman.  Such  knowledge 
was  invaluable  to  the  chief  of  the  Great  Company.  It 
enabled  him  to  calculate  exactly  the  time  to  attack  a 
foe,  and  the  sum  to  demand  for  a  suppression  of  hostili- 
ties. He  knew  what  parties  to  deal  with — where  to 
importune — where  to  forbear.  And  it  usually  hap- 
pened that,  by  some  secret  intrigue,  the  appearance  of 
Montreal's  banner  before  the  walls  of  a  city  was  the 
signal  for  some  sedition  or  some  broil  within.  It  may 
be  that  he  thus  also  promoted  an  ulterior,  as  well  as  his 
present,  policy. 

The  divan  were  in  full  consultation  when  an  officer 
entered,  and  whispered  a  few  words  in  Montreal's  ear. 
His  eyes  brightened.  "  Admit  him,"  he  said  hastily. 
"  Messires,"  he  added  to  his  councillors,  rubbing  his 
hands,  "  I  think  our  net  has  caught  our  bird.  Let 
us  see." 

At  this  moment  the  drapery  was  lifted  and  the 
Knight  admitted. 

"  How ! "  muttered  Montreal,  changing  colour,  and 
in  evident  disappointment.  "  Am  I  to  be  ever  thus 
balked?" 

"  Sir  Walter  de  Montreal,"  said  the  prisoner,  "  I  am 
once  more  your  guest.  In  these  altered  features  you 
perhaps  scarcely  recognise  Adrian  di  Castello." 

"  Pardon  me,  noble  Signor,"  said  Montreal,  rising 
with  great  courtesy;  "the  mistake  of  my  varlets  dis- 
turbed my  recollection  for  a  moment. — I  rejoice  once 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES        495 

more  to  press  a  hand  that  has  won  so  many  laurels 
since  last  we  parted.  Your  renown  has  been  grateful 
to  my  ears.  Ho !  "  continued  the  chieftain,  clapping 
his  hands,  "  see  to  the,  refreshment  and  repose  of  this 
noble  Cavalier  and  his  attendants.  Lord  Adrian,  I 
will  join  you  presently.'1 

Adrian  withdrew.  Montreal,  forgetful  of  his  coun- 
cillors, traversed  his  tent  with  hasty  strides ;  then  sum- 
moning the  officer  who  had  admitted  Adrian,  he  said, 
"  Count  Landau  still  keeps  the  pass?  " 

"  Yes,  General !  " 

"  Hie  thee  fast  back,  then — the  ambuscade  must 
tarry  till  nightfall.  We  have  trapped  the  wrong  fox." 

The  officer  departed,  and  shortly  afterwards  Mon- 
treal broke  up  the  divan.  He  sought  Adrian,  who 
was  lodged  in  a  tent  beside  his  own. 

"  My  Lord,"  said  Montreal,  "  it  is  true  that  my  men 
had  orders  to  stop  every  one  on  the  roads  towards 
Florence.  I  am  at  war  with  that  city.  Yet  I  expected 
a  very  different  prisoner  from  you.  Need  I  add,  that 
you  and  your  men  are  free  ?  " 

"  I  accept  the  courtesy,  noble  Montreal,  as  frankly 
as  it  is  rendered.  May  I  hope  hereafter  to  repay  it? 
Meanwhile  permit  me,  without  any  disrespect,  to  say 
that  had  I  learned  the  Grand  Company  was  in  this 
direction,  I  should  have  altered  my  course.  I  had 
heard  that  your  arms  were  bent  (somewhat  to  my  mind 
more  nobly)  against  Malatesta,  the  tyrant  of  Rimini !  " 

"  They  were  so.  He  was  my  foe ;  he  is  my  tribu- 
tary. We  conquered  him.  He  paid  us  the  price  of 
his  liberty.  We  marched  by  Asciano  upon  Sienna. 
For  sixteen  thousand  florins  we  spared  that  city ;  and 
we  now  hang  like  a  thunder-bolt  over  Florence,  which 
dared  to  send  her  puny  aid  to  the  defence  of  Rimini. 


496  RIENZI 

Our  marches  are  forced  and  rapid,  and  our  camp  in 
this  plain  but  just  pitched." 

"  I  hear  that  the  Grand  Company  is  allied  with  Al- 
bornoz,  and  that  its  General  is  secretly  the  soldier  of 
the  Church.  Is  it  so?" 

"  Ay — Albornoz  and  I  understand  one  another,"  re- 
plied Montreal,  carelessly ;  "  and  not  the  less  so  that 
we  have  a  mutual  foe,  whom  both  are  sworn  to  crush, 
in  Visconti,  the  archbishop  of  Milan." 

"  Visconti !  the  most  potent  of  the  Italian  princes. 
That  he  has  justly  incurred  the  wrath  of  the  Church 
I  know — and  I  can  readily  understand  that  Innocent 
has  revoked  the  pardon  which  the  intrigues  of  the 
Archbishop  purchased  from  Clement  VI.  But  I  do 
riot  see  clearly  why  Montreal  should  willingly  provoke 
so  dark  and  terrible  a  foe." 

Montreal  smiled  sternly.  "  Know  you  not,"  he 
said,  "  the  vast  ambition  of  that  Visconti  ?  By  the 
Holy  Sepulchre,  he  is  precisely  the  enemy  my  soul 
leaps  to  meet !  He  has  a  genius  worthy  to  cope  with 
Montreal's.  I  have  made  myself  master  of  his  secret 
plans — they  are  gigantic !  In  a  word,  the  Archbishop 
designs  the  conquest  of  all  Italy.  His  enormous 
wealth  purchases  the  corrupt — his  dark  sagacity  en- 
snares the  credulous — his  daring  valour  awes  the  weak. 
Every  enemy  he  humbles — every  ally  he  enslaves. 
This  is  precisely  the  Prince  whose  progress  Walter 
de  Montreal  must  arrest.  For  this "  (he  said  in  a 
whisper  as  to  himself)  "  is  precisely  the  Prince  who,  if 
suffered  to  extend  his  power,  will  frustrate  the  plans 
and  break  the  force  of  Walter  de  Montreal." 

Adrian  was  silent,  and  for  the  first  time  a  suspicion 
of  the  real  nature  of  the  Provencal's  designs  crossed  his 
breast. 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES        497 

"  But,  noble  Montreal,"  resumed  the  Colonna, 
"  give  me,  if  your  knowledge  serves,  as  no  doubt  it 
does, — give  me  the  latest  tidings  of  my  native  city.  I 
am  Roman,  and  Rome  is  ever  in  my  thoughts." 

"  And  well  she  may,"  replied  Montreal,  quickly. 
"  Thou  knowest  that  Albornoz,  as  Legate  of  the  Pon- 
tiff, led  the  army  of  the  Church  into  the  Papal  Terri- 
tories. He  took  with  him  Cola  di  Rienzi.  Arrived 
at  Monte  Fiascone,  crowds  of  Romans  of  all  ranks 
hastened  thither  to  render  homage  to  the  Tribune. 
The  Legate  was  forgotten  in  the  popularity  of  his  com- 
panion. Whether  or  not  Albornoz  grew  jealous — 
for  he  is  proud  as  Lucifer — of  the  respect  paid  to  the 
Tribune,  or  whether  he  feared  the  restoration  of  his 
power,  I  cannot  tell.  But  he  detained  him  in  his  camp, 
and  refused  to  yield  him  to  all  the  solicitations  and  all 
the  deputations  of  the  Romans.  Artfully,  however,  he 
fulfilled  one  of  the  real  objects  of  Rienzi's  release. 
Through  his  means  he  formally  regained  the  allegiance 
of  Rome  to  the  Church,  and  by  the  attraction  of  his 
presence  swelled  his  camp  with  Roman  recruits. 
Marching  to  Viterbo,  Rienzi  distinguished  himself 
greatly  in  deeds  of  arms  against  the  tyrant*  John  di 
Vico.  Nay,  he  fought  as  one  worthy  of  belonging  to 
the  Grand  Company.  This  increased  the  zeal  of  the 
Romans ;  and  the  city  disgorged  half  its  inhabitants  to 
attend  the  person  of  the  bold  Tribune.  To  the  en- 
treaties of  these  worthy  citizens  (perhaps  the  very  men 
who  had  before  shut  up  their  darling  in  St.  Angelo) 
the  crafty  Legate  merely  replied,  '  Arm  against  John 
di  Vico — conquer  the  tyrants  of  the  Territory — re- 
establish the  patrimony  of  St.  Peter,  and  Rienzi  shall 
then  be  proclaimed  Senator,  and  return  to  Rome.' 

*  Vit  di  Col.  di  Rienzi. 
32 


498  RIENZI 

"  These  words  inspired  the  Romans  with  so  great 
a  zeal,  that  they  willingly  lent  their  aid  to  the  Legate. 
Aquapendente,  Bolzena  yielded,  John  di  Vico  was  half 
reduced  and  half  terrified  into  submission,  and  Gabri- 
elli,  the  tyrant  of  Agobbio,  has  since  succumbed.  The 
glory  is  to  the  Cardinal,  but  the  merit  with  Rienzi." 

"And  now?" 

"  Albornoz  continued  to  entertain  the  Senator-Trib- 
une with  great  splendour  and  fair  words,  but  not  a 
word  about  restoring  him  to  Rome.  Wearied  with 
this  suspense,  I  have  learned  by  secret  intelligence 
that  Rienzi  has  left  the  camp,  and  betaken  himself  with 
a  few  attendants  to  Florence,  where  he  has  friends, 
who  will  provide  him  with  arms  and  money  to  enter 
Rome." 

"  Ah  then !  now  I  guess,"  said  Adrian,  with  a  half 
smile,  "  for  whom  I  was  mistaken !  " 

Montreal  blushed  slightly.  "  Fairly  conjectured !  " 
said  he. 

"  Meanwhile,  at  Rome,"  continued  the  Provencal — 
"  at  Rome,  your  worthy  House,  and  that  of  the  Orsini, 
being  elected  to  the  supreme  power,  quarrelled  among 
themselves,  and  could  not  keep  the  authority  they  had 
won.  Francesco  Baroncelli,*  a  new  demagogue,  a 

*  This  Baroncelli,  who  has  been  introduced  to  the  reader 
in  a  former  portion  of  this  work,  is  called  by  Matteo  Villani 
"  a  man  of  vile  birth  and  little  learning — he  had  been  a 
Notary  of  the  Capitol." 

In  the  midst  of  the  armed  dissensions  between  the  Barons, 
which  followed  the  expulsion  of  Rienzi,  Baroncelli  contrived 
to  make  himself  Master  of  the  Capitol,  and  of  what  was  con- 
sidered an  auxiliary  of  no  common  importance — viz.  the 
Great  Bell,  by  whose  alarum  Rienzi  had  so  often  summoned 
to  arms  the  Roman  people.  Baroncelli  was  crowned  Trib- 
une, clothed  in  a  robe  of  gold  brocade,  and  invested  with 
the  crozier-sceptre  of  Rienzi.  At  first,  his  cruelty  against 
the  great  took  the  appearance  of  protection  to  the  humble; 
but  the  excesses  of  his  sons  (not  exaggerated  in  the  text), 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES        499 

humble  imitator  of  Rienzi,  rose  upon  the  ruins  of  the 
peace  broken  by  the  nobles,  obtained  the  title  of  Trib- 
une, and  carried  about  the  very  insignia  used  by  his 
predecessor.  But  less  wise  than  Rienzi,  he  took  the 
antipapal  party.  And  the  Legate  was  thus  enabled 
to  play  the  papal  demagogue  against  the  usurper. 
Baroncelli  was  a  weak  man,  his  sons  committed  every 
excess  in  mimicry  of  the  high-born  tyrants  of  Padua 
and  Milan.  Virgins  violated  and  matrons  dishon- 
oured, somewhat  contrasted  the  solemn  and  majestic 
decorum  of  Rienzi's  rule; — in  fine,  Baroncelli  fell, 
massacred  by  the  people.  And  now,  if  you  ask  what 
rules  Rome,  I  answer,  '  It  is  the  hope  of  Rienzi.'  " 

"  A  strange  man,  and  various  fortunes.  What  will 
be  the  end  of  both ! " 

"  Swift  murder  to  the  first,  and  eternal  fame  to  the 
last,"  answered  Montreal,  calmly.  "  Rienzi  will  be 
restored ;  that  brave  phoenix  will  wing  its  way  through 
storm  and  cloud  to  its  own  funereal  pyre :  I  foresee, 
I  compassionate,  I  admire. — And  then,"  added  Mon- 
treal, "  I  look  beyond!  " 

"  But  wherefore  feel  you  so  certain  that,  if  restored, 
Rienzi  must  fall  ?  " 

"  Is  it  not  clear  to  every  eye,  save  his,  whom  am- 

and  his  own  brutal  but  bold  ferocity,  soon  made  him  exe- 
crated by  the  people,  to  whom  he  owed  his  elevation.  He 
had  the  folly  to  declare  against  the  Pope;  and  this  it  really 
was  that  mainly  induced  Innocent  to  restore,  and  oppose  to 
their  New  Demagogue,  the  former  and  more  illustrious  Trib- 
une. Baroncelli,  like  Rienzi,  was  excommunicated;  and  in 
his  instance,  also,  the  curse  of  the  Church  was  the  immediate 
cause  of  his  downfall.  In  attempting  flight  he  was  massacred 
by  the  mob,  December,  1353.  Some,  however,  have  main- 
tained that  he  was  slain  in  combat  with  Rienzi;  and  others, 
by  a  confusion  of  dates,  have  made  him  succeed  to  Rienzi  on 
the  death  of  the  latter. — Matteo  Villani,  lib.  iii.  cap.  78. 
Osservaz.  Star,  di  Zefirino  Re.  MS.  Vat.  Rip.  dal  Bzovio,  ann. 
1353-  N.  2. 


500  RIENZI 

bition  blinds  ?  How  can  mortal  genius,  however  great, 
rule  that  most  depraved  people  by  popular  means? 
The  Barons — (you  know  their  indomitable  ferocity) — 
wedded  to  abuse,  and  loathing  every  semblance  to 
law ;  the  Barons,  humbled  for  a  moment,  will  watch 
their  occasion,  and  rise.  The  people  will  again  desert. 
Or  else,  grown  wise  in  one  respect  by  experience,  the 
new  Senator  will  see  that  popular  favour  has  a  loud 
voice,  but  a  recreant  arm.  He  will,  like  the  Barons, 
surround  himself  by  foreign  swords.  A  detachment 
from  the  Grand  Company  will  be  his  courtiers ;  they 
will  be  his  masters !  To  pay  them  the  people  must 
be  taxed.  Then  the  idol  is  execrated.  No  Italian 
hand  can  govern  these  hardy  demons  of  the  north ; 
they  will  mutiny  and  fall  away.  A  new  demagogue 
will  lead  on  the  people,  and  Rienzi  will  be  the  vic- 
tim. Mark  my  prophecy !  " 

"  And  then  the  '  beyond  '  to  which  you  look  ?  " 
"  Utter  prostration  of  Rome,  for  new  and  long  ages  ; 
God  makes  not  two  Rienzis ;  or,"  said  Montreal,  proud- 
ly, "  the  infusion  of  a  new  life  into  the  worn-out  and 
diseased  frame, — the  foundation  of  a  new  dynasty. 
Verily,  when  I  look  around  me,  I  believe  that  the 
Ruler  of  nations  designs  the  restoration  of  the  South 
by  the  irruptions  of  the  North;  and  that  out  of  the 
old  Franc  and  Germanic  race  will  be  built  up  the 
thrones  of  the  future  world !  " 

As  Montreal  thus  spoke,  leaning  on  his  great  war- 
sword,  with  his  fair  and  heroic  features — so  different, 
in  their  frank,  bold,  fearless  expression,  from  the  dark 
and  wily  intellect  that  characterises  the  lineaments  of 
the  South — eloquent  at  once  with  enthusiasm  and 
thought — he  might  have  seemed  no  unfitting  repre- 
sentative of  the  genius  of  that  northern  chivalry  of 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES        501 

which  he  spake.  And  Adrian  half  fancied  that  he  saw 
before  him  one  of  the  old  Gothic  scourges  of  the 
Western  World. 

Their  conversation  was  here  interrupted  by  the 
sound  of  a  trumpet,  and  presently  an  officer  entering, 
announced  the  arrival  of  ambassadors  from  Florence. 

"  Again  you  must  pardon  me,  noble  Adrian,"  said 
Montreal,  "  and  let  me  claim  you  as  my  guest  at  least 
for  to-night.  Here  you  may  rest  secure,  and  on  part- 
ing, my  men  shall  attend  you  to  the  frontiers  of  what- 
soever territory  you  design  to  visit." 

Adrian,  not  sorry  to  see  more  of  a  man  so  cele- 
brated, accepted  the  invitation. 

Left  alone,  he  leaned  his  head  upon  his  hand,  and 
soon  became  lost  in  his  reflections. 


CHAPTER    III 

FAITHFUL  AND    ILL-FATED    LOVE. — THE   ASPIRATIONS 
SURVIVE    THE   AFFECTIONS 

Since  that  fearful  hour  in  which  Adrian  Colonna 
had  gazed  upon  the  lifeless  form  of  his  adored  Irene, 
the  young  Roman  had  undergone  the  usual  vicissi- 
tudes of  a  wandering  and  adventurous  life  in  those 
exciting  times.  His  country  seemed  no  longer  dear 
to  him.  His  very  rank  precluded  him  from  the  post 
he  once  aspired  to  take  in  restoring  the  liberties  of 
Rome ;  and  he  felt  that  if  ever  such  a  revolution  could 
be  consummated,  it  was  reserved  for  one  in  whose 
birth  and  habits  the  people  could  feel  sympathy  and 
kindred,  and  who  could  lift  his  hand  in  their  behalf 
without  becoming  the  apostate  of  his  order  and  the 


502  RIENZI 

judge  of  his  own  House.  He  had  travelled  through 
various  courts,  and  served  with  renown  in  various 
fields.  Beloved  and  honoured  wheresoever  he  fixed 
a  temporary  home,  no  change  of  scene  had  removed 
his  melancholy — no  new  ties  had  chased  away  the 
memory  of  the  Lost.  In  that  era  of  passionate  and 
poetical  romance,  which  Petrarch  represented  rather 
than  created,  Love  had  already  begun  to  assume  a 
more  tender  and  sacred  character  than  it  had  hitherto 
known,  it  had  gradually  imbibed  the  divine  spirit  which 
it  derives  from  Christianity,  and  which  associates  its 
sorrows  on  earth  with  the  visions  and  hopes  of  heaven. 
To  him  who  relies  upon  immortality,  fidelity  to  the 
dead  is  easy ;  because  death  cannot  extinguish  hope, 
and  the  soul  of  the  mourner  is  already  half  in  the 
world  to  come.  It  is  an  age  that  desponds  of  a  future 
life — representing  death  as  an  eternal  separation — in 
which,  if  men  grieve  awhile  for  the  dead,  they  hasten 
to  reconcile  themselves  to  the  living.  For  true  is  the 
old  aphorism,  that  love  exists  not  without  hope.  And 
all  that  romantic  worship  which  the  Hermit  of  Vau- 
cluse  felt,  or  feigned,  for  Laura,  found  its  temple  in 
the  desolate  heart  of  Adrian  Colonna.  He  was  em- 
phatically the  Lover  of  his  time!  Often  as,  in  his  pil- 
grimage from  land  to  land,  he  passed  the  walls  of 
some  quiet  and  lonely  convent,  he  seriously  meditated 
the  solemn  vows,  and  internally  resolved  that  the 
cloister  should  receive  his  maturer  age.  The  absence 
of  years  had,  however,  in  some  degree  restored  the 
dimmed  and  shattered  affection  for  his  fatherland,  and 
he  desired  once  more  to  visit  the  city  in  which  he 
had  first  beheld  Irene.  "  Perhaps,"  he  thought,  "  time 
may  have  wrought  some  unlooked-for  change ;  and  I 
may  yet  assist  to  restore  my  country." 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES        503 

But  with  this  lingering  patriotism  no  ambition  was 
mingled.  In  that  heated  stage  of  action,  in  which  the 
desire  of  power  seemed  to  stir  through  every  breast, 
and  Italy  had  become  the  El  Dorado  of  wealth,  or  the 
Utopia  of  empire,  to  thousands  of  valiant  arms  and 
plotting  minds,  there  was  at  least  one  breast  that  felt 
the  true  philosophy  of  the  Hermit.  Adrian's  nature, 
•though  gallant  and  masculine,  was  singularly  imbued 
with  that  elegance  of  temperament  which  recoils  from 
rude  contact,  and  to  which  a  lettered  and  cultivated 
indolence  is  the  supremest  luxury.  His  education,  his 
experience,  and  his  intellect,  had  placed  him  far  in 
advance  of  his  age,  and  he  looked  with  a  high  con- 
tempt on  the  coarse  villanies  and  base  tricks  by  which 
Italian  ambition  sought  its  road  to  power.  The  rise 
and  fall  of  Rienzi,  who,  whatever  his  failings,  was  at 
least  the  purest  and  most  honourable  of  the  self-raised 
princes  of  the  age,  had  conspired  to  make  him  despond 
of  the  success  of  noble,  as  he  recoiled  from  that 
of  selfish  aspirations.  And  the  dreamy  melancholy 
which  resulted  from  his  ill-starred  love,  yet  more 
tended  to  wean  him  from  the  stale  and  hackneyed  pur- 
suits of  the  world.  His  character  was  full  of  beauty 
and  of  poetry — not  the  less  so  in  that  it  found  not  a 
vent  for  its  emotions  in  the  actual  occupation  of  the 
poet !  Pent  within,  those  emotions  diffused  them- 
selves over  all  his  thoughts  and  coloured  his  whole 
soul.  Sometimes,  in  the  blessed  abstraction  of  his 
visions,  he  pictured  to  himself  the  lot  he  might  have 
chosen  had  Irene  lived,  and  fate  united  them — far  from 
the  turbulent  and  vulgar  roar  of  Rome — but  amidst 
some  yet  unpolluted  solitude  of  the  bright  Italian  soil. 
Before  his  eye  there  rose  the  lovely  landscape — the 
palace  by  the  borders  of  the  waveless  lake — the  vine- 


504  RIENZI 

yards  in  the  valley — the  dark  forests  waving  from  the 
hill — and  that  home,  the  resort  and  refuge  of  all  the 
minstrelsy  and  love  of  Italy,  brightened  by  the  "  Lam- 
peggiar  dell'  angelico  riso,"  *  that  makes  a  paradise 
in  the  face  we  love.  Often,  seduced  by  such  dreams 
to  complete  oblivion  of  his  loss,  the  young  wanderer 
started  from  the  ideal  bliss,  to  behold  around  him  the 
solitary  waste  of  way — or  the  moonlit  tents  of  war — 
or,  worse  than  all,  the  crowds  and  revels  of  a  foreign 
court. 

Whether  or  not  such  fancies  now,  for  a  moment, 
allured  his  meditations,  conjured  up,  perhaps,  by  the 
name  of  Irene's  brother,  which  never  sounded  in  his 
ears  but  to  awaken  ten  thousand  associations,  the 
Colonna  remained  thoughtful  and  absorbed,  until  he 
was  disturbed  by  his  own  squire,  who,  accompanied 
by  Montreal's  servitors,  ushered  in  his  solitary  but 
ample  repast.  Flasks  of  the  richest  Florentine  wines 
— viands  prepared  with  all  the  art  which,  alas,  Italy 
has  now  lost! — goblets  and  salvers  of  gold  and  silver, 
prodigally  wrought  with  barbaric  gems — attested  the 
princely  luxury  which  reigned  in  the  camp  of  the 
Grand  Company.  But  Adrian  saw  in  all  only  the  spo- 
liation of  his  degraded  country,  and  felt  the  splendour 
almost  as  an  insult.  His  lonely  meal  soon  concluded, 
he  became  impatient  of  the  monotony  of  his  tent ;  and, 
tempted  by  the  cool  air  of  the  descending  eve,  saun- 
tered carelessly  forth.  He  bent  his  steps  by  the  side 
of  the  brooklet  that  curved,  snakelike  and  sparkling, 
by  Montreal's  tent ;  and  finding  a  spot  somewhat  soli- 
tary and  apart  from  the  warlike  tenements  around, 
flung  himself  by  the  margin  of  the  stream. 

The  last  rays  of  the  sun  quivered  on  the  wave  that 
*  "  The  splendour  of  the  angel  smile." — PETRARCH. 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES        505 

danced  musically  over  its  stony  bed;  and  amidst  a 
little  copse  on  the  opposite  bank  broke  the  brief  and 
momentary  song  of  such  of  the  bolder  inhabitants 
of  that  purple  air  as  the  din  of  the  camp  had  not  scared 
from  their  green  retreat.  The  clouds  lay  motionless 
to  the  west,  in  that  sky  so  darkly  and  intensely  blue, 
never  seen  but  over  the  landscapes  that  a  Claude  or  a 
Rosa  loved  to  paint :  and  dim  and  delicious  rose-hues 
gathered  over  the  gray  peaks  of  the  distant  Apennines. 
From  afar  floated  the  hum  of  the  camp,  broken  by  the 
neigh  of  returning  steeds ;  the  blast  of  an  occasional 
bugle;  and,  at  regular  intervals,  by  the  armed  tramp 
of  the  neighbouring  sentry.  And  opposite  to  the  left 
of  the  copse — upon  a  rising  ground,  matted  with  reeds, 
moss,  and  waving  shrubs — were  the  ruins  of  some  old 
Etruscan  building,  whose  name  had  perished,  whose 
very  uses  were  unknown. 

The  scene  was  so  calm  and  lovely,  as  Adrian  gazed 
upon  it,  that  it  was  scarcely  possible  to  imagine  it  at 
that  very  hour  the  haunt  of  fierce  and  banded  robbers, 
among  most  of  whom  the  very  soul  of  man  was  em- 
bruted,  and  to  all  of  whom  murder  or  rapine  made 
the  habitual  occupation  of  life. 

Still  buried  in  his  reveries,  and  carelessly  dropping 
stones  into  the  noisy  rivulet,  Adrian  was  aroused  by 
the  sound  of  steps. 

"  A  fair  spot  to  listen  to  the  lute  and  the  ballads 
of  Provence,"  said  the  voice  of  Montreal,  as  the 
Knight  of  St.  John  threw  himself  on  the  turf  beside 
the  young  Colonna. 

"  You  retain,  then,  your  ancient  love  of  your  national 
melodies,"  said  Adrian. 

"Ay,  I  have  not  yet  survived  all  my  youth,"  an- 
swered Montreal,  with  a  slight  sigh.  "  But  somehow 


5o6  RIENZI 

or  other,  the  strains  that  once  pleased  my  fancy  now 
go  too  directly  to  my  heart.  So,  though  I  still  wel- 
come jongleur  and  minstrel,  I  bid  them  sing  their 
newest  conceits.  I  cannot  wish  ever  again  to  hear 
the  poetry  I  heard  when  /  was  young!" 

"  Pardon  me,"  said  Adrian,  with  great  interest,  "  but 
fain  would -I  have  dared,  though  a  secret  apprehen- 
sion prevented  me  hitherto, — fain  would  I  have  dared 
to  question  you  of  that  lovely  lady,  with  whom,  seven 
years  ago,  we  gazed  at  moonlight  upon  the  odorous 
orange-groves  and  rosy  waters  of  Terracina." 

Montreal  turned  away  his  face ;  he  laid  his  hand  on 
Adrian's  arm,  and  murmured,  in  a  deep  and  hoarse 
tone,  "  I  am  alone  now !  " 

Adrian  pressed  his  hand  in  silence.  He  felt  no  light 
shock  at  thus  learning  the  death  of  one  so  gentle,  so 
lovely,  and  so  ill-fated. 

"  The  vows  of  my  knighthood,"  continued  Montreal, 
"  which  precluded  Adeline  the  rights  of  wedlock — the 
shame  of  her  house — the  angry  grief  of  her  mother — 
the  wild  vicissitudes  of  my  life,  so  exposed  to  peril 
— the  loss  of  her  son — all  preyed  silently  on  her  frame. 
She  did  not  die  (die  is  too  harsh  a  word !),  but  she 
drooped  away,  and  glided  into  heaven.  Even  as  on 
a  summer's  morn  some  soft  dream  fleets  across  us, 
growing  less  and  less  distinct,  until  it  fades,  as  it  were, 
into  light,  and  we  awaken — so  faded  Adeline's  parting 
spirit,  till  the  daylight  of  God  broke  upon  it." 

Montreal  paused  a  moment,  and  then  resumed: 
"  These  thoughts  make  the  boldest  of  us  weak  some- 
times, and  we  Provengals  are  foolish  in  these  matters ! 
— God  wot,  she  was  very  dear  to  me !  " 

The  Knight  bent  down  and  crossed  himself  devout- 
ly, his  lips  muttered  a  prayer.  Strange  as  it  may  seem 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES        507 

to  our  more  enlightened  age,  so  martial  a  garb  did 
morality  then  wear,  that  this  man,  at  whose  word  towns 
had  blazed  and  torrents  of  blood  had  flowed,  neither 
adjudged  himself,  nor  was  adjudged  by  the  majority 
of  his  contemporaries,  a  criminal.  His  order,  half 
monastic,  half  warlike,  was  emblematic  of  himself.  He 
trampled  upon  man,  yet  humbled  himself  to  God ;  nor 
had  all  his  acquaintance  with  the  refining  scepticism 
of  Italy  shaken  the  sturdy  and  simple  faith  of  the  bold 
Provengal.  So  far  from  recognising  any  want  of  har- 
mony between  his  calling  and  his  creed,  he  held  that 
man  no  true  chevalier  who  was  not  as  devout  to  the 
Cross  as  relentless  with  the  sword. 

"  And  you  have  no  child  save  the  one  you  lost  ?  " 
asked  Adrian,  when  he  observed  the  wonted  compo- 
sure of  Montreal  once  more  returning. 

"  None !  "  said  Montreal,  as  his  brow  again  dark- 
ened. "  No  love-begotten  heir  of  mine  will  succeed 
to  the  fortunes  I  trust  yet  to  build.  Never  on  earth 
shall  I  see  upon  the  face  of  her  child  the  likeness  of 
Adeline !  Yet,  at  Avignon,  I  saw  a  boy  I  would  have 
claimed  ;  for  methought  she  must  have  looked  her  soul 
into  his  eyes,  they  were  so  like  hers !  Well,  well ! 
the  Provence  tree  hath  other  branches :  and  some  un- 
born nephew  must  be — what  ?  The  stars  have  not  yet 
decided !  But  ambition  is  now  the  only  thing  in  the 
world  left  me  to  love." 

"  So  differently  operates  the  same  misfortune  upon 
different  characters,"  thought  the  Colonna.  "  To  me, 
crowns  became  valueless  when  I  could  no  longer 
dream  of  placing  them  on  Irene's  brow ! " 

The  similarity  of  their  fates,  however,  attracted 
Adrian  strongly  towards  his  host ;  and  the  two  Knights 
conversed  together  with  more  friendship  and  unre- 


508  RIENZI 

serve  than  they  had  hitherto  done.  At  length  Mon- 
treal said,  "  By  the  way,  I  have  not  inquired  your 
destination." 

"  I  am  bound  to  Rome,"  said  Adrian :  "  and  the  in- 
telligence I  have  learned  from  you  incites  me  thither- 
ward yet  more  eagerly.  If  Rienzi  return,  I  may  medi- 
ate successfully,  perchance,  between  the  Tribune-Sen- 
ator and  the  nobles;  and  if  I  find  my  cousin,  young 
Stefanello,  now  the  head  of  our  house,  more  tractable 
than  his  sires,  I  shall  not  despair  of  conciliating  the 
less  powerful  Barons.  Rome  wants  repose ;  and  who- 
ever governs,  if  he  govern  but  with  justice,  ought  to 
be  supported  both  by  prince  and  plebeian !  " 

Montreal  listened  with  great  attention,  and  then 
muttered  to  himself,  "  No,  it  cannot  be !  "  He  mused 
a  little  while,  shading  his  brow  with  his  hand,  before 
he  said  aloud,  "  To  Rome  you  are  bound.  Well,  we 
shall  meet  soon  amidst  its  ruins.  Know,  by  the  way, 
that  my  object  here  is  already  won :  these  Florentine 
merchants  have  acceded  to  my  terms ;  they  have  pur- 
chased a  two  years'  peace  ;  to-morrow  the  camp  breaks 
up,  and  the  Grand  Company  march  to  Lombardy. 
There,  if  my  schemes  prosper,  and  the  Venetians  pay 
my  price,  I  league  the  rascals  (under  Landau,  my  Lieu- 
tenant) with  the  Sea-City,  in  defiance  of  the  Visconti, 
and  shall  pass  my  autumn  in  peace  amidst  the  pomps 
of  Rome." 

"  Sir  Walter  de  Montreal,"  said  Adrian,  "  your 
frankness  perhaps  makes  me  presumptuous ;  but  when 
I  hear  you  talk,  like  a  huxtering  trader,  of  selling 
alike  your  friendship  and  your  forbearance,  I  ask  my- 
self '  Is  this  the  great  Knight  of  St.  John ;  and  have 
men  spoken  of  him  fairly,  when  they  assert  the  sole 
stain  on  his  laurels  to  be  his  avarice  ? '  " 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES        509 

Montreal  bit  his. lips;  nevertheless,  he  answered 
calmly,  "  My  frankness  has  brought  its  own  penance, 
Lord  Adrian.  However,  I  cannot  wholly  leave  so 
honoured  a  guest  under  an  impression  which  I  feel  to 
be  plausible,  but  not  just.  No,  brave  Colonna ;  re- 
port wrongs  me.  I  value  Gold,  for  Gold  is  the  Archi- 
tect of  Power !  It  fills  the  camp — it  storms  the  city 
— it  buys  the  market-place — it  raises  the  palace — it 
founds  the  throne.  I  value  Gold, — it  is  the  means 
necessary  to  my  end !  " 

"  And  that  end " 

"  Is — no  matter  what,"  said  the  Knight  coldly. 
"  Let  us  to  our  tents,  the  dews  fall  heavily,  and  the 
malaria  floats  over  these  houseless  wastes." 

The  pair  rose ; — yet,  fascinated  by  the  beauty  of  the 
hour,  they  lingered  for  a  moment  by  the  brook.  The 
earliest  stars  shone  over  its  crisping  wavelets,  and  a 
delicious  breeze  murmured  gently  amidst  the  glossy 
herbage. 

"  Thus  gazing,"  said  Montreal,  softly,  "  we  reverse 
the  old  Medusan  fable  the  poets  tell  us  of,  and  look 
and  muse  ourselves  out  of  stone.  A  little  while,  and 
it  was  the  sunlight  that  gilded  the  wave — it  now  shines 
as  brightly  and  glides  as  gaily  beneath  the  stars;  even 
so  rolls  the  stream  of  time :  one  luminary  succeeds 
the  other  equally  welcomed  —  equally  illumining  — 
equally  evanescent ! — You  see,  the  poetry  of  Provence 
still  lives  beneath  my  mail ! " 

Adrian  early  sought  his  couch  ;  but  his  own  thoughts 
and  the  sounds  of  loud  mirth  that  broke  from  Mon- 
treal's tent,  where  the  chief  feasted  the  captains  of  his 
band,  a  revel  from  which  he  had  the  delicacy  to  excuse 
the  Roman  noble,  kept  the  Colonna  long  awake ;  and 
he  had  scarcely  fallen  into  an  unquiet  slumber,  when 


5io  RIENZI 

yet  more  discordant  sounds  again  invaded  his  repose. 
At  the  earliest  dawn  the  wide  armament  was  astir — 
the  creaking  of  cordage — the  tramp  of  men — loud  or- 
ders and  louder  oaths — the  slow  rolling  of  baggage- 
wains — and  the  clank  of  the  armourers,  announced 
the  removal  of  the  camp,  and  the  approaching  depar- 
ture of  the  Grand  Company. 

Ere  Adrian  was  yet  attired,  Montreal  entered  his 
tent. 

"  I  have  appointed,"  he  said,  "  five  score  lances  un- 
der a  trusty  leader,  to  accompany  you,  noble  Adrian, 
to  the  borders  of  Romagna;  they  wait  your  leisure. 
In  another  hour  I  depart;  the  on-guard  are  already 
in  motion." 

Adrian  would  fain  have  declined  the  proffered  es- 
cort; but  he  saw  that  it  would  only  offend  the  pride 
of  the  chief,  who  soon  retired.  Hastily  Adrian  en- 
dued his  arms — the  air  of  the  fresh  morning,  and  the 
glad  sun  rising  gorgeously  from  the  hills,  revived  his 
wearied  spirit.  He  repaired  to  Montreal's  tent,  and 
found  him  alone,  with  the  implements  of  writing  be- 
fore him,  and  a  triumphant  smile  upon  his  counte- 
nance. 

"  Fortune  showers  new  favours  on  me ! "  he  said 
gaily.  "  Yesterday  the  Florentines  spared  me  the 
trouble  of  a  siege :  and  to-day  (even  since  I  last  saw 
you — a  few  minutes  since)  puts  your  new  Senator  of 
Rome  into  my  power !  " 

"  How !  have  your  bands  then  arrested  Rienzi  ?  " 

"  Not  so — better  still !  The  Tribune  changed  his 
plan,  and  repaired  to  Perugia,  where  my  brothers  now 
abide — sought  them — they  have  supplied  him  with 
money  and  soldiers  enough  to  brave  the  perils  of  the 
way,  and  to  defy  the  swords  of  the  Barons.  So  writes 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES        511 

my  good  brother  Arimbaldo,  a  man  of  letters,  whom 
the  Tribune  thinks  rightly  he  has  decoyed  with  old 
tales  of  Roman  greatness,  and  mighty  promises  of 
grateful  advancement.  You  find  me  hastily  expressing 
my  content  at  the  arrangement.  My  brothers  them- 
selves will  accompany  the  Senator-Tribune  to  the  walls 
of  the  Capitol." 

"  Still,  I  see  not  how  this  places  Rienzi  in  your 
power." 

"  No !  His  soldiers  are  my  creatures — his  com- 
rades my  brothers — his  creditor  myself !  Let  him  rule 
Rome  then — the  time  soon  comes  when  the  Vice- 
Regent  must  yield  to " 

"  The  Chief  of  the  Grand  Company,"  interrupted 
Adrian,  with  a  shudder,  which  the  bold  Montreal  was 
too  engrossed  with  the  unconcealed  excitement  of  his 
own  thoughts  to  notice.  "  No,  Knight  of  Provence, 
basely  have  we  succumbed  to  domestic  tyrants :  but 
never,  I  trust,  will  Romans  be  so  vile  as  to  wear  the 
yoke  of  a  foreign  usurper." 

Montreal  looked  hard  at  Adrian,  and  smiled  sternly. 

"  You  mistake  me,"  said  he ;  "  and  it  will  be  time 
enough  for  you  to  play  the  Brutus  when  I  assume 
the  Caesar.  Meanwhile  we  are  but  host  and  guest. 
Let  us  change  the  theme." 

Nevertheless  this,  their  latter  conference,  threw  a 
chill  over  both  during  the  short  time  the  Knights  re- 
mained together,  and  they  parted  with  a  formality 
which  was  ill-suited  to  their  friendly  intercourse  of 
the  night  before.  Montreal  felt  he  had  incautiously 
revealed  himself,  but  caution  was  no  part  of  his  charac- 
ter, whenever  he  found  himself  at  the  head  of  an  army, 
and  at  the  full  tide  of  fortune ;  and  at  that  moment, 
10  confident  was  he  of  the  success  of  his  wildest 


512  RIENZI 

schemes,  that  he  recked  little  whom  he  offended,  or 
whom  alarmed. 

Slowly,  with  his  strange  and  ferocious  escort,  Adrian 
renewed  his  way.  Winding  up  a  steep  ascent  that  led 
from  the  plain, — when  he  reached  the  summit,  the 
curve  in  the  road  showed  him  the  whole  army  on  its 
march  ; — the  gonfalons  waving — the  armour  flashing 
in  the  sun,  line  after  line,  like  a  river  of  steel,  and 
the  whole  plain  bristling  with  the  array  of  that  moving 
war ; — while  the  solemn  tread  of  the  armed  thousands 
fell  subdued  and  stifled  at  times  by  martial  and  exult- 
ing music.  As  they  swept  on,  Adrian  descried  at 
length  the  stately  and  towering  form  of  Montreal  upon 
a  black  charger,  distinguished  even  at  that  distance 
from  the  rest,  not  more  by  his  gorgeous  armour  than 
his  lofty  stature.  So  swept  he  on  in  the  pride  of  his 
array — in  the  flush  of  his  hopes — the  head  of  a  mighty 
armament — the  terror  of  Italy — the  hero  that  was — 
the  monarch  that  might  be ! 


BOOK   IX 

THE  RETURN 

Allora  la  sua  venuta  fu  a  Roma  sentita;  Romani  si  ap- 
parecchiavano  a  riceverlo  con  letizia  .  .  .  furo  fatti  archi 
trionfali,"  &c.,  &c. — Vita  di  Cola  di  Rienzi,  lib.  ii.  c.  17. 

Then  the  fame  of  his  coming  was  felt  at  Rome;  the  Romans 
made  ready  to  receive  him  with  gladness  .  .  .  triumphal 
arches  were  erected,"  &c.,  &c. — Life  of  Cola  di  Rienzi. 


CHAPTER    I 

THE   TRIUMPHAL    ENTRANCE 

All  Rome  was  astir! — from  St.  Angelo  to  the  Cap- 
itol, windows,  balconies,  roofs,  were  crowded  with 
animated  thousands.  Only  here  and  there,  in  the  sul- 
len quarters  of  the  Colonna,  the  Orsini,  and  the 
Savelli,  reigned  a  death-like  solitude  and  a  dreary 
gloom.  In  those  fortifications,  rather  than  streets,  not 
even  the  accustomed  tread  of  the  barbarian  sentinel 
was  heard.  The  gates  closed — the  casements  barred 
— the  grim  silence  around — attested  the  absence  of  the 
Barons.  They  had  left  the  city  so  soon  as  they  had 
learned  the  certain  approach  of  Rienzi.  In  the  villages 
and  castles  of  the  Campagna,  surrounded  by  their  mer- 
cenaries, they  awaited  the  hour  when  the  people,  weary 
of  their  idol,  should  welcome  back  even  those  fero- 
cious Iconoclasts. 

With  these  exceptions,  all  Rome  was  astir!  Tri- 
33  5i3 


5i4  RIENZI 

umphal  arches  of  drapery,  wrought  with  gold  and  sil- 
ver, raised  at  every  principal  vista,  were  inscribed  with 
mottoes  of  welcome  and  rejoicing.  At  frequent  inter- 
vals stood  youths  and  maidens,  with  baskets  of  flow- 
ers and  laurels.  High  above  the  assembled  multitudes 
— from  the  proud  tower  of  Hadrian — from  the  turrets 
of  the  Capitol — from  the  spires  of  the  sacred  buildings 
dedicated  to  Apostle  and  to  Saint — floated  banners  as 
for  a  victory.  Rome  once  more  opened  her  arms  to 
receive  her  Tribune ! 

Mingled  with  the  crowd — disguised  by  his  large 
mantle — hidden  by  the  pressure  of  the  throng — his 
person,  indeed,  forgotten  by  most — and,  in  the  con- 
fusion of  the  moment  heeded  by  none — stood  Adrian 
Colonna !  He  had  not  been  able  to  conquer  his  in- 
terest for  the  brother  of  Irene.  Solitary  amidst  his 
fellow-citizens,  he  stood — the  only  one  of  the  proud 
race  of  Colonna  who  witnessed  the  triumph  of  the 
darling  of  the  people. 

"  They  say  he  has  grown  large  in  his  prison,"  said 
one  of  the  bystanders ;  "  he  was  lean  enough  when 
he  came  by  daybreak  out  of  the  Church  of  St.  An- 
gelo !  " 

"  Ay,"  said  another,  a  little  man  with  a  shrewd, 
restless  eye,  "  they  say  truly ;  I  saw  him  take  leave 
of  the  Legate." 

Every  eye  was  turned  to  the  last  speaker ;  he  be- 
came at  once  a  personage  of  importance.  "  Yes,"  con- 
tinued the  little  man  with  an  elated  and  pompous  air, 
"  as  soon,  d'ye  see,  as  he  had  prevailed  on  Messere 
Brettone,  and  Messere  Arimbaldo,  the  brothers  of  Fra 
Moreale,  to  accompany  him  from  Perugia  to  Monte 
Fiascone,  he  went  at  once  to  the  Legate  d'Albornoz, 
who  was  standing  in  the  open  air  conversing  with  his 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES        515 

captains.  A  crowd  followed.  I  was  one  of  them; 
and  the  Tribune  nodded  at  me — ay,  that  did  he ! — and 
so,  with  his  scarlet  cloak,  and  his  scarlet  cap,  he  faced 
the  proud  Cardinal  with  a  pride  greater  than  his  own. 
'  Monsignore,'  said  he,  '  though  you  accord  me  neither 
money  nor  arms,  to  meet  the  dangers  of  the  road  and 
brave  the  ambush  of  the  Barons,  I  am  prepared  to 
depart.  Senator  of  Rome,  his  Holiness  hath  made 
me :  according  to  custom,  I  pray  you,  Monsignore, 
forthwith  to  confirm  the  rank.'  I  would  you  could 
have  seen  how  the  proud  Spaniard  stared,  and  blushed, 
and  frowned ;  but  he  bit  his  lip,  and  said  little." 
"And  confirmed  Rienzi  Senator?" 
"  Yes ;  and  blessed  him,  and  bade  him  depart." 
"  Senator !  "  said  a  stalwart  but  gray-haired  giant 
with  folded  arms ;  "  I  like  not  a  title  that  has  been 
borne  by  a  patrician.  I  fear  me,  in  the  new  title  he 
will  forget  the  old." 

"  Fie,  Cecco  del  Vecchio,  you  were  always  a 
grumbler!"  said  a  merchant  of  cloth,  whose  com- 
modity the  ceremonial  had  put  in  great  request.  "  Fie  ! 
— for  my  part,  I  think  Senator  a  less  new-fangled  title 
than  Tribune.  I  hope  there  will  be  feasting  enow, 
at  last.  Rome  has  been  long  dull.  A  bad  time  for 
trade,  I  warrant  me !  " 

The  artisan  grinned  scornfully.  He  was  one  of 
those  who  distinguished  between  the  middle  class  and 
the  working,  and  he  loathed  a  merchant  as  much  as 
he  did  a  noble.  "  The  day  wears,"  said  the  little  man ; 
"  he  must  be  here  anon.  The  Senator's  lady,  and  all 
his  train,  have  gone  forth  to  meet  him  these  two 
hours." 

Scarce  were  these  words  uttered,  when  the  crowd 
to  the  right  swayed  restlessly ;  and  presently  a  horse- 


516  RIENZI 

man  rode  rapidly  through  the  street.  "  Way  there ! 
Keep  back !  Way — make  way  for  the  Most  Illustrious 
the  Senator  of  Rome !  " 

The  crowd  became  hushed — then  murmuring — then 
hushed  again.  From  balcony  and  casement  stretched 
the  neck  of  every  gazer.  The  tramp  of  steeds  was 
heard  at  a  distance — the  sound  of  clarion  and  trum- 
pet ; — then,  gleaming  through  the  distant  curve  of  the 
streets,  was  seen  the  wave  of  the  gonfalons — then,  the 
glitter  of  spears — and  then  from  the  whole  multitude, 
as  from  one  voice,  arose  the  shout, — "  He  comes !  he 
comes ! " 

Adrian  shrunk  yet  more  backward  amongst  the 
throng;  and,  leaning  against  the  wall  of  one  of  the 
houses,  contemplated  the  approaching  pageant. 

First  came  six  abreast,  the  procession  of  Roman 
horsemen  who  had  gone  forth  to  meet  the  Senator, 
bearing  boughs  of  olive  in  their  hands ;  each  hundred 
preceded  by  banners,  inscribed  with  the  words,  "  Lib- 
erty and  Peace  restored."  As  these  passed  the  group 
by  Adrian,  each  more  popular  citizen  of  the  cavalcade 
was  recognised,  and  received  with  loud  shouts.  By 
the  garb  and  equipment  of  the  horsemen,  Adrian  saw 
that  they  belonged  chiefly  to  the  traders  of  Rome ;  a 
race  who,  he  well  knew,  unless  strangely  altered,  val- 
ued liberty,  only  as  a  commercial  speculation.  "  A 
vain  support  these,"  thought  the  Colonna ; — "  what 
next?  "  On,  then,  came  in  glittering  armour  the  Ger- 
man mercenaries,  hired  by  the  gold  of  the  Brothers 
of  Provence,  in  number  two  hundred  and  fifty,  and 
previously  in  the  pay  of  Malatesta  of  Rimini ; — tall, 
stern,  sedate,  disciplined, — eyeing  the  crowd  with  a 
look,  half  of  barbarian  wonder,  half  of  insolent  disdain. 
No  shout  of  gratulation  welcomed  these  sturdy  stran- 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES        517 

gers ;  it  was  evident  that  their  aspect  cast  a  chill  over 
the  assembly. 

"  Shame !  "  growled  Cecco  del  Vecchio,  audibly. 
"  Has  the  people's  friend  need  of  the  swords  which 
guard  an  Orsini  or  a  Malatesta  ? — shame  !  " 

No  voice  this  time  silenced  the  huge  malcontent. 

"  His  only  real  defence  against  the  Barons,"  thought 
Adrian,  "  if  he  pay  them  well !  But  their  number  is 
not  sufficient !  " 

Next  came  two  hundred  fantassins,  or  foot-soldiers, 
of  Tuscany,  with  the  corselets  and  arms  of  the  heavy- 
armed  soldiery — a  gallant  company,  and  whose  cheer- 
ful looks  and  familiar  bearing  appeared  to  sympathise 
with  the  crowd.  And  in  truth  they  did  so, — for  they 
were  Tuscans,  and  therefore  lovers  of  freedom.  In 
them,  too,  the  Romans  seemed  to  recognise  natural 
and  legitimate  allies, — and  there  was  a  general  cry  of 
"  Vivano  i  bravi  Toscani !  " 

"  Poor  defence ! "  thought  the  more  sagacious  Co- 
lonna ;  "  the  Barons  can  awe,  and  the  mob  corrupt 
them." 

Next  came  a  file  of  trumpeters  and  standard-bearers  ; 
— and  now  the  sound  of  the  music  was  drowned  by 
shouts,  which  seemed  to  rise  simultaneously  as  from 
every  quarter  of  the  city ; — "  Rienzi !  Rienzi ! — Wel- 
come, welcome  ! — Liberty  and  Rienzi !  Rienzi  and 
the  Good  Estate !  "  Flowers  dropped  on  his  path, 
kerchiefs  and  banners  waved  from  every  house ; — 
tears  might  be  seen  coursing,  unheeded,  down  bearded 
cheeks ; — youth  and  age  were  kneeling  together,  with 
uplifted  hands,  invoking  blessings  on  the  head  of  the 
Restored.  On  he  came,  the  Senator-Tribune — "  the 
Phoenix  to  his  pyre! " 

Robed  in  scarlet  that  literally  blazed  with  gold,  his 


5i8  RIENZI 

proud  head  bared  in  the  sun,  and  bending  to  the  saddle 
bow,  Rienzi  passed  slowly  through  the  throng.  Not 
in  the  flush  of  that  hour  were  visible  on  his  glorious 
countenance,  the  signs  of  disease  and  care :  the  very 
enlargement  of  his  proportions  gave  a  greater  maj- 
esty to  his  mien.  Hope  sparkled  in  his  eye — triumph 
and  empire  sat  upon  his  brow.  The  crowd  could  not 
contain  themselves ;  they  pressed  forward,  each  upon 
each,  anxious  to  catch  the  glance  of  his  eye,  to  touch 
the  hem  of  his  robe.  He  himself  was  deeply  affected 
by  their  joy.  He  halted ;  with  faltering  and  broken 
words,  he  attempted  to  address  them.  "  I  am  repaid," 
he  said, — "  repaid  for  all ; — may  I  live  to  make  you 
happy!" 

The  crowd  parted  again — the  Senator  moved  on — 
again  the  crowd  closed  in.  Behind  the  Tribune,  to 
their  excited  imagination,  seemed  to  move  the  very 
goddess  of  ancient  Rome. 

Upon  a  steed,  caparisoned  with  cloth  of  gold ; — in 
snow-white  robes,  studded  with  gems  that  flashed  back 
the  day, — came  the  beautiful  and  regal  Nina.  The 
memory  of  her  pride,  her  ostentation,  all  forgotten  in 
that  moment,  she  was  scarce  less  welcome,  scarce  less 
idolised,  than  her  lord.  And  her  smile  all  radiant 
with  joy — her  lip  quivering  with  proud  and  elate  emo- 
tion— never  had  she  seemed  at  once  so  born  alike  for 
love  and  for  command ; — a  Zenobia  passing  through 
the  pomp  of  Rome, — not  a  captive,  but  a  queen. 

But  not  upon  that  stately  form  riveted  the  gaze  of 
Adrian — pale,  breathless,  trembling,  he  clung  to  the 
walls  against  which  he  leaned.  Was  it  a  dream  ?  Had 
the  dead  revived?  Or  was  it  his  own — his  living 
Irene — whose  soft  and  melancholy  loveliness  shone 
sadly  by  the  side  of  Nina — a  star  beside  the  moon? 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES        519 

The  pageant  faded  from  his  eyes — all  grew  dim  and 
dark.  For  a  moment  he  was  insensible.  When  he 
recovered,  the  crowd  was  hurrying  along,  confused 
and  blent  with  the  mighty  stream  that  followed  the 
procession.  Through  the  moving  multitude  he  caught 
the  graceful  form  of  Irene,  again  snatched  by  the 
closing  standards  of  the  procession  from  his  view. 
His  blood  rushed  back  from  his  heart  through  every 
vein.  He  was  as  a  man  who  for  years  had  been  in  a 
fearful  trance,  and  who  is  suddenly  awakened  to  the 
light  of  heaven. 

One  of  that  mighty  throng  remained  motionless 
with  Adrian.  It  was  Cecco  del  Vecchio. 

"He  did  not  see  me,"  muttered  the  smith  to  himself; 
"  old  friends  are  forgotten  now!  Well,  well,  Cecco  del 
Vecchio  hates  tyrants  still — no  matter  what  their 
name,  nor  how  smoothly  they  are  disguised.  He  did 
not  see  ME  !  Umph !  " 


CHAPTER    II 

THE    MASQUERADE 

The  acuter  reader  has  already  learned,  without  the 
absolute  intervention  of  the  author  as  narrator,  the 
incidents  occurring  to  Rienzi  in  the  interval  between 
his  acquittal  at  Avignon  and  his  return  to  Rome.  As 
the  impression  made  by  Nina  upon  the  softer  and  bet- 
ter nature  of  Albornoz  died  away,  he  naturally  began 
to  consider  his  guest — as  the  profound  politicians  of 
that  day  ever  considered  men — a  piece  upon  the  great 
Chess-board,  to  be  moved,  advanced,  or  sacrificed,  as 
best  suited  the  scheme  in  view.  His  purpose  accom- 


520  RIENZI 

plished,  in  the  recovery  of  the  patrimonial  territory, 
the  submission  of  John  di  Vico,  and  the  fall  and  death 
of  the  Demagogue  Baroncelli,  the  Cardinal  deemed 
it  far  from  advisable  to  restore  to  Rome,  and  with  so 
high  a  dignity,  the  able  and  ambitious  Rienzi.  Before 
the  daring  Roman,  even  his  own  great  spirit  quailed; 
and  he  was  wholly  unable  to  conceive  or  to  calculate 
the  policy  that  might  be  adopted  by  the  new  Senator, 
when  once  more  Lord  of  Rome.  Without  affecting 
to  detain,  he  therefore  declined  to  assist  in  restoring 
him.  And  Rienzi  thus  saw  himself  within  an  easy 
march  of  Rome,  without  one  soldier  to  protect  him 
against  the  Barons  by  the  way.  But  Heaven  had  de- 
creed that  no  single  man,  however  gifted,  or  however 
powerful,  should  long  counteract  or  master  the  desti- 
nies of  Rienzi :  and  perhaps  in  no  more  glittering  scene 
of  his  life  did  he  ever  evince  so  dexterous  and  subtle 
an  intellect  as  he  now  did  in  extricating  himself  from 
the  wiles  of  the  Cardinal.  Repairing  to  Perugia,  he 
had,  as  we  have  seen,  procured,  through  the  brothers 
of  Montreal,  men  and  money  for  his  return.  But  the 
Knight  of  St.  John  was  greatly  mistaken,  if  he  imag- 
ined that  Rienzi  was  not  thoroughly  aware  of  the 
perilous  and  treacherous  tenure  of  the  support  he  had 
received.  His  keen  eye  read  at  a  glance  the  aims  and 
the  characters  of  the  brothers  of  Montreal — he  knew 
that  while  affecting  to  serve  him,  they  designed  to 
control — that,  made  the  debtor  of  the  grasping  and 
aspiring  Montreal,  and  surrounded  by  the  troops  con- 
ducted by  Montreal's  brethren,  he  was  in  the  midst 
of  a  net  which,  if  not  broken,  would  soon  involve  for- 
tune and  life  itself  in  its  fatal  and  deadly  meshes.  But, 
confident  in  the  resources  and  promptitude  of  his  own 
genius,  he  yet  sanguinely  trusted  to  make  those  his 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES        521 

puppets,  who  dreamed  that  he  was  their  own ;  and, 
with  empire  for  the  stake,  he  cared  not  how  crafty 
the  antagonists  he  was  compelled  to  engage. 

Meanwhile,  uniting  to  all  his  rasher  and  all  his 
nobler  qualities,  a  profound  dissimulation,  he  appeared 
to  trust  implicitly  to  his  Provengal  companions ;  and 
his  first  act  on  entering  the  Capitol,  after  the  triumphal 
procession,  was  to  reward  with  the  highest  dignities 
in  his  gift,  Messere  Arimbaldo  and  Messere  Brettone 
de  Montreal ! 

High  feasting  was  there  that  night  in  the  halls  of 
the  Capitol ;  but  dearer  to  Rienzi  than  all  the  pomp 
of  the  day,  were  the  smiles  of  Nina.  Her  proud  and 
admiring  eyes,  swimming  with  delicious  tears,  fixed 
upon  his  countenance,  she  but  felt  that  they  were  re- 
united, and  that  the  hours,  however  brilliantly  illu- 
mined, were  hastening  to  that  moment,  when,  after 
so  desolate  and  dark  an  absence,  they  might  once 
more  be  alone. 

Far  other  the  thoughts  of  Adrian  Colonna,  as  he 
sate  alone  in  the  dreary  palace  in  the  yet  more  dreary 
quarter  of  his  haughty  race.  Irene  then  was  alive, — • 
he  had  been  deceived  by  some  strange  error, — she  had 
escaped  the  devouring  pestilence ;  and  something  in 
the  pale  sadness  of  her  gentle  features,  even  in  that 
day  of  triumph,  told  him  he  was  still  remembered.  But 
as  his  mind  by  degrees  calmed  itself  from  its  first  wild 
and  tumultuous  rapture,  he  could  not  help  asking  him- 
self the  question  whether  they  were  not  still  to  be 
divided !  Stefanello  Colonna,  the  grandson  of  the  old 
Stephen,  and  (by  the  death  of  his  sire  and  brother) 
the  youthful  head  of  that  powerful  House,  had  already 
raised  his  standard  against  the  Senator.  Fortifying 
himself  in  the  almost  impregnable  fastness  of  Pales- 


522  RIENZI 

trina,  he  had  assembled  around  him  all  the  retainers  of 
his  family,  and  his  lawless  soldiery  now  ravaged  the 
neighbouring  plains  far  and  wide. 

Adrian  foresaw  that  the  lapse  of  a  few  days  would 
suffice  to  bring  the  Colonna  and  the  Senator  to  open 
war.  Could  he  take  part  against  those  of  his  own 
blood?  The  very  circumstance  of  his  love  for  Irene 
would  yet  more  rob  such  a  proceeding  of  all  appear- 
ance of  disinterested  patriotism,  and  yet  more  deeply 
and  irremediably  stain  his  knightly  fame,  wherever 
the  sympathy  of  his  equals  was  enlisted  with  the  cause 
of  the  Colonna.  On  the  other  hand,  not  only  his  love 
for  the  Senator's  sister,  but  his  own  secret  inclinations 
and  honest  convictions,  were  on  the  side  of  one  who 
alone  seemed  to  him  possessed  of  the  desire  and  the 
genius  to  repress  the  disorders  of  his  fallen  city.  Long 
meditating,  he  feared  no  alternative  was  left  him  but 
in  the  same  cruel  neutrality  to  which  he  had  been  be- 
fore condemned ;  but  he  resolved  at  least  to  make  the 
attempt — rendered  favourable  and  dignified  by  his 
birth  and  reputation — to  reconcile  the  contending 
parties.  To  effect  this,  he  saw  that  he  must  begin  with 
his  haughty  cousin.  He  was  well  aware  that  were 
it  known  that  he  had  first  obtained  an  interview  with 
Rienzi — did  it  appear  as  if  he  were  charged  with  over- 
tures from  the  Senator — although  Stefanello  himself 
might  be  inclined  to  yield  to  his  representations,  the 
insolent  and  ferocious  Barons  who  surrounded  him 
would  not  deign  to  listen  to  the  envoy  of  the  People's 
chosen  one ;  and  instead  of  being  honoured  as  an  in- 
tercessor, he  should  be  suspected  as  a  traitor.  He 
determined,  then,  to  depart  for  Palestrina;  but  (and  his 
heart  beat  audibly)  would  it  not  be  possible  first  to 
obtain  an  interview  with  Irene?  It  was  no  easy  en- 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES        523 

terprise,  surrounded  as  she  was,  but  he  resolved  to 
adventure  it.  He  summoned  Giulio. 

"  The  Senator  holds  a  festival  this  evening — think 
you  that  the  assemblage  will  be  numerous  ?  " 

"  I  hear,"  answered  Giulio,  "  that  the  banquet  given 
to  the  Ambassadors  and  Signers  to-day  is  to  be  fol- 
lowed to-morrow  by  a  mask,  to  which  all  ranks  are 
admitted.  By  Bacchus,*  if  the  Tribune  only  invited 
nobles,  the  smallest  closet  in  the  Capitol  would  suf- 
fice to  receive  his  maskers.  .1  suppose  a  mask  has 
been  resolved  on  in  order  to  disguise  the  quality  of  the 
visitors." 

Adrian  mused  a  moment;  and  the  result  of  his 
reverie  was  a  determination  to  delay  for  another  sun 
his  departure  to  Palestrina — to  take  advantage  of  the 
nature  of  the  revel,  and  to  join  the  masquerade. 

That  species  of  entertainment,  though  unusual  at 
that  season  of  the  year,  had  been  preferred  by  Rienzi, 
partly  and  ostensibly  because  it  was  one  in  which  all 
his  numerous  and  motley  supporters  could  be  best  re- 
ceived ;  but  chiefly  and  secretly  because  it  afforded 
himself  and  his  confidential  friends  the  occasion  to  mix 
unsuspected  amongst  the  throng,  and  learn  more  of 
the  real  anticipations  of  the  Romans  with  respect  to 
his  policy  and  his  strength,  than  could  well  be  gath- 
ered from  the  enthusiasm  of  a  public  spectacle. 

The  following  night  was  beautifully  serene  and 
clear.  The  better  to  accommodate  .  the  numerous 
guests,  and  to  take  advantage  of  the  warm  and  moonlit 
freshness  of  the  air,  the  open  court  of  the  Capitol,  with 
the  Place  of  the  Lion,  (as  well  as  the  state  apartments 
within,)  was  devoted  to  the  festival. 

As  Adrian  entered  the  festive  court  with  the  rush 
*  Still  a  common  Roman  expletive. 


524  RIENZI 

of  the  throng,  it  chanced  that  in  the  eager  impatience 
of  some  maskers,  more  vehement  than  the  rest,  his 
vizard  was  deranged.  He  hastily  replaced  it ;  but  not 
before  one  of  the  guests  had  recognised  his  counte- 
nance. 

From  courtesy,  Rienzi  and  his  family  remained  at 
first  unmasked.  They  stood  at  the  head  of  the  stairs 
to  which  the  old  Egyptian  Lion  gave  the  name.  The 
lights  shone  over  that  Colossal  Monument — which, 
torn  from  its  antique  home,  had  witnessed,  in  its  grim 
repose,  the  rise  and  lapse  of  countless  generations, 
and  the  dark  and  stormy  revolutions  of  avenging  fate. 
It  was  an  ill  omen,  often  afterwards  remarked,  that  the 
place  of  that  state  festival  was  the  place  also  of  the 
state  executions.  But  at  that  moment,  as  group  after 
group  pressed  forward  to  win  smile  and  word  from 
the  celebrated  man,  whose  fortunes  had  been  the 
theme  of  Europe,  or  to  bend  in  homage  to  the  lustrous 
loveliness  of  Nina,  no  omen  and  no  warning  clouded 
the  universal  gladness. 

Behind  Nina,  well  contented  to  shrink  from  the  gaze 
of  the  throng,  and  to  feel  her  softer  beauty  eclipsed 
by  the  dazzling  and  gorgeous  charms  of  her  brother's 
wife,  stood  Irene.  Amidst  the  crowd,  on  her  alone 
Adrian  fixed  his  eyes.  The  years  which  had  flown 
over  the  fair  brow  of  the  girl  of  sixteen — then  an- 
imated by,  yet  trembling  beneath,  the  first  wild  breath 
of  Love ; — youth  in  every  vein — passion  and  childish 
tenderness  in  every  thought,  had  not  marred,  but  they 
had  changed,  the  character  of  Irene's  beauty.  Her 
cheek,  no  longer  varying  with  every  instant,  was  set- 
tled into  a  delicate  and  thoughtful  paleness — her  form, 
more  rounded  to  the  proportions  of  Roman  beauty, 
had  assumed  an  air  of  dignified  and  calm  repose.  No 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES        525 

longer  did  the  restless  eye  wander  in  search  of  some 
imagined  object;  no  longer  did  the  lip  quiver  into 
smiles  at  some  untold  hope  or  half-unconscious  recol- 
lection. A  grave  and  mournful  expression  gave  to 
her  face  (still  how  sweet !)  a  gravity  beyond  her  years. 
The  bloom,  the  flush,  the  April  of  the  heart,  was  gone ; 
but  yet  neither  time,  nor  sorrow,  nor  blighted  love, 
had  stolen  from  her  countenance  its  rare  and  angelic 
softness — nor  that  inexpressible  and  virgin  modesty  of 
form  and  aspect,  which,  contrasting  the  bolder  beau- 
ties of  Italy,  had  more  than  aught  else  distinguished 
to  Adrian,  from  all  other  women,  the  idol  of  his  heart. 
And  feeding  his  gaze  upon  those  dark  deep  eyes, 
which  spoke  of  thought  far  away  and  busy  with  the 
past,  Adrian  felt  again  and  again  that  he  was  not  for- 
gotten !  Hovering  near  her,  but  suffering  the  crowd 
to  press  one  after  another  before  him,  he  did  not  per- 
ceive that  he  had  attracted  the  eagle  eye  of  the  Sen- 
ator. 

In  fact,  as  one  of  the  maskers  passed  Rienzi,  he 
whispered,  "  Beware,  a  Colonna  is  among  the  masks ! 
beneath  the  reveller's  domino  has  often  lurked  the  as- 
sassin's dagger.  Yonder  stands  your  foe — mark  him !  " 

These  words  were  the  first  sharp  and  thrilling  inti- 
mation of  the  perils  into  which  he  had  rushed,  that 
the  Tribune-Senator  had  received  since  his  return. 
He  changed  colour  slightly ;  and  for  some  minutes  the 
courtly  smile  and  ready  greeting  with  which  he  had 
hitherto  delighted  every  guest,  gave  way  to  a  moody 
abstraction. 

"  Why  stands  yon  strange  man  so  mute  and  motion- 
less ?  "  whispered  he  to  Nina.  "  He  speaks  to  none — 
he  approaches  us  not — a  churl,  a  churl ! — he  must  be 
seen  to." 


526  RIENZI 

"  Doubtless  some  German  or  English  barbarian," 
answered  Nina.  "  Let  not,  my  Lord,  so  slight  a  cloud 
dim  your  merriment." 

"  You  are  right,  dearest ;  we  have  friends  here ;  we 
are  well  girt.  And,  by  my  father's  ashes,  I  feel  that 
I  must  accustom  myself  to  danger.  Nina,  let  us  move 
on;  methinks  we  might  now  mix  among  the  maskers 
— masked  ourselves." 

The  music  played  loud  and  cheerily  as  the  Senator 
and  his  party  mingled  with  the  throng.  But  still  his 
eye  turned  ever  towards  the  gray  domino  of  Adrian, 
and  he  perceived  that  it  followed  his  steps.  Approach- 
ing the  private  entrance  of  the  Capitol,  he  for  a  few 
moments  lost  sight  of  his  unwelcome  pursuer:  but  just 
as  he  entered,  turning  abruptly,  Rienzi  perceived  him 
close  at  his  side — the  next  moment  the  stranger  had 
vanished  amidst  the  throng.  But  that  moment  had 
sufficed  to  Adrian — he  had  reached  Irene.  "  Adrian 
Colonna "  (he  whispered)  "  waits  thee  beside  the 
Lion." 

In  the  absorption  of  his  own  reflections,  Rienzi  for- 
tunately did  not  notice  the  sudden  paleness  and  agita- 
tion of  his  sister.  Entered  within  his  palace,  he  called 
for  wine — the  draught  revived  his  spirits — he  listened 
smilingly  to  the  sparkling  remarks  of  Nina ;  and  endu- 
ing his  mask  and  disguise,  said,  with  his  wonted  cheer- 
fulness, "  Now  for  Truth — strange  that  in  festivals  it 
should  only  speak  behind  a  vizard !  My  sweet  sister, 
thou  hast  lost  thine  old  smile,  and  I  would  rather  see 
that  than — Ha !  has  Irene  vanished  ?  " 

"  Only,  I  suppose,  to  change  her  dress,  my  Cola, 
and  mingle  with  the  revellers,"  answered  Nina.  "  Let 
my  smile  atone  for  hers." 

Rienzi  kissed  the  bright  brow  of  his  wife  as  she 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES        527 

clung  fondly  to  his  bosom.  "  Thy  smile  is  the  sun- 
light," said  he ;  "  but  this  girl  disturbs  me.  Methinks 
now,  at  least,  she  might  wear  a  gladder  aspect." 

"  Is  there  nothing  of  love  beneath  my  fair  sister's 
gloom?"  answered  Nina.  "  Do  you  not  call  to  mind 
how  she  loved  Adrian  Colonna?  " 

"  Does  that  fantasy  hold  still  ?  "  returned  Rienzi, 
musingly.  "  Well,  and  she  is  fit  bride  for  a  monarch." 

"  Yet  it  were  an  alliance  that  would,  better  than 
one  with  monarchs,  strengthen  thy  power  at  Rome !  " 

"  Ay,  were  it  possible ;  but  that  haughty  race ! — 
Perchance  this  very  masker  that  so  haunted  our  steps 
was  but  her  lover.  I  will  look  to  this.  Let  us  forth, 
my  Nina.  Am  I  well  cloaked  ?  " 

"  Excellently  well— and  I  ?  " 

"  The  sun  behind  a  cloud." 

"  Ah,  let  us  not  tarry  long ;  what  hour  of  revel  like 
that  when  thy  hand  in  mine,  this  head  upon  thy  bosom, 
we  forget  the  sorrows  we  have  known,  and  even  the 
triumphs  we  have  shared  ?  " 

Meanwhile,  Irene,  confused  and  lost  amidst  a  trans- 
port of  emotion,  already  disguised  and  masked,  was 
threading  her  way  through  the  crowd  back  to  the 
staircase  of  the  Lion.  With  the  absence  of  the  Sena- 
tor that  spot  had  comparatively  been  deserted.  Music 
and  the  dance  attracted  the  maskers  to  another  quar- 
ter of  the  wide  space.  And  Irene  now  approaching, 
beheld  the  moonlight  fall  over  the  statue,  and  a  soli- 
tary figure  leaning  against  the  pedestal.  She  paused,, 
the  figure  approached,  and  again  she  heard  the  voice 
of  her  early  love. 

"  Oh,  Irene !  recognised  even  in  this  disguise,"  said 
Adrian,  seizing  her  trembling  hand ;  "  have  I  lived 
to  gaze  again  upon  that  form — to  touch  this  hand? 


528  RIENZI 

Did  not  these  eyes  behold  thee  lifeless  in  that  fearful 
vault,  which  I  shudder  to  recall?  By  what  miracle 
wert  thou  raised  again?  By  what  means  did  Heaven 
spare  to  this  earth  one  that  it  seemed  already  to  have 
placed  amongst  its  angels  ?  " 

"Was  this,  indeed,  thy  belief?"  said  Irene,  falter- 
ingly,  but  with  an  accent  eloquent  of  joy.  "  Thou 
didst  not  then  willingly  desert  me?  Unjust  that  I 
was,  I  wronged  thy  noble  nature,  and  deemed  that  my 
brother's  fall,  my  humble  lineage,  thy  brilliant  -fate, 
had  made  thee  renounce  Irene." 

"  Unjust  indeed !  "  answered  the  lover.  "  But  sure- 
ly I  saw  thee  amongst  the  dead ! — thy  cloak,  with  the 
silver  stars — who  else  wore  the  arms  of  the  Roman 
Tribune?" 

"  Was  it  but  the  cloak  then,  which,  dropped  in  the 
streets,  was  probably  assumed  by  some  more  ill-fated 
victim ;  was  it  that  sight  alone,  that  made  thee  so  soon 
despair?  Ah  !  Adrian,"  continued  Irene,  tenderly,  but 
with  reproach ;  "  not  even  when  I  saw  thee  seemingly 
lifeless  on  the  couch  by  which  I  had  watched  three 
days  and  nights,  not  even  then  did  7  despair !  " 

"  What,  then,  my  vision  did  not  deceive  me !  It 
was  you  who  watched  by  my  bed  in  that  grim  hour, 
whose  love  guarded,  whose  care  preserved  me !  And 
I,  wretch  that  I  was ! " 

"  Nay,"  answered  Irene,  "  your  thought  was  nat- 
ural. Heaven  seemed  to  endow  me  with  superhuman 
strength,  whilst  I  was  necessary  to  thee.  But  judge 
of  my  dismay.  I  left  thee  to  seek  the  good  friar  who 
attended  thee  as  thy  leech ;  I  returned,  and  found  thee 
not.  Heart-sick  and  terrified,  I  searched  the  desolate 
city  in  vain.  Strong  as  I  was  while  hope  supported 
me,  I  sunk  beneath  fear. — And  my  brother  found  me 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES        529 

senseless,  and  stretched  on  the  ground,  by  the  church 
of  St.  Mark." 

"  The  church  of  St.  Mark ! — so  foretold  his  dream !  " 

"  He  had  told  me  he  had  met  thee ;  we  searched  for 
thee  in  vain ;  at  length  we  heard  that  thou  hadst  left 
the  city,  and — and — I  rejoiced,  Adrian,  but  I  re- 
pined !  " 

For  some  minutes  the  young  lovers  surrendered 
themselves  to  the  delight  of  reunion,  while  new  ex- 
planations called  forth  new  transports. 

"  And  now,"  murmured  Irene,  "  now  that  we  have 

met "  she  paused,  and  her  mask  concealed  her 

blushes. 

"  Now  that  we  have  met,"  said  Adrian,  filling  up 
the  silence,  "  wouldst  thou  say  further,  '  that  we  should 
not  part  ? '  Trust  me,  dearest,  that  is  the  hope  that 
animates  my  heart.  It  was  but  to  enjoy  these  brief 
bright  moments  with  thee,  that  I  delayed  my  depar- 
ture to  Palestrina.  Could  I  but  hope  to  bring  my 
young  cousin  into  amity  with  thy  brother,  no  barrier 
would  prevent  our  union.  Willingly  I  forget  the  past 
— the  death  of  my  unhappy  kinsmen,  (victims,  it  is 
true,  to  their  own  faults;)  and,  perhaps,  amidst  all  the 
crowds  that  hailed  his  re-turn,  none  more  appreciated 
the  great  and  lofty  qualities  of  Cola  di  Rienzi,  than  did 
Adrian  Colonna." 

"  If  this  be  so,"  said  Irene,  "  let  me  hope  the  best ; 
meanwhile,  it  is  enough  of  comfort  and  of  happiness 
to  know,  that  we  love  each  other  as  of  old.  Ah, 
Adrian,  I  am  sadly  changed ;  and  often  have  I  thought 
it  a  thing  beyond  my  dreams,  that  thou  shouldst  see 
me  again  and  love  me  still." 

"  Fairer  art  thou  and  lovelier  than  ever,"  answered 
Adrian,  passionately ;  "  and  time,  which  has  ripened 
34 


530  RIENZI 

thy  bloom,  has  but  taught  me  more  deeply  to  feel  thy 
value.  Farewell,  Irene,  I  linger  here  no  longer ;  thou 
wilt,  I  trust,  hear  soon  of  my  success  with  my  House, 
and  ere  the  week  be  over  I  may  return  to  claim  thy 
hand  in  the  face  of  day." 

The  lovers  parted ;  Adrian  lingered  on  the  spot,  and 
Irene  hastened  to  bury  her  emotion  and  her  raptures 
in  her  own  chamber. 

As  her  form  vanished,  and  the  young  Colonna  slow- 
ly turned  away,  a  tall  mask  strode  abruptly  towards 
him. 

"  Thou  art  a  Colonna,"  it  said,  "  and  in  the  power 
of  the  Senator.  Dost  thou  tremble  ?  " 

"  If  I  be  a  Colonna,  rude  masker,"  answered  Adrian, 
coldly,  "  thou  shouldst  know  the  old  proverb,  '  He 
who  stirs  the  column,  shall  rue  the  fall.' " 

The  stranger  laughed  aloud,  and  then  lifting  his 
mask,  Adrian  saw  that  it  was  the  Senator  who  stood 
before  him. 

"  My  Lord  Adrian  di  Castello,"  said  Rienzi,  re- 
suming all  his  gravity,  "  is  it  as  friend  or  foe  that  you 
have  honoured  our  revels  this  night  ?  " 

"  Senator  of  Rome,"  answered  Adrian,  with  equal 
stateliness,  "  I  partake  of  no  man's  hospitality  but  as 
a  friend.  A  foe,  at  least  to  you,  I  trust  never  justly 
to  be  esteemed." 

"  I  would,"  rejoined  Rienzi,  "  that  I  could  apply 
to  myself  unreservedly  that  most  flattering  speech. 
Are  these  friendly  feelings  entertained  towards  me  as 
the  Governor  of  the  Roman  people,  or  as  the  brother 
of  the  woman  who  has  listened  to  your  vows  ?  " 

Adrian,  who  when  the  Senator  had  unmasked  had 
followed  his  example,  felt  at  these  words  that  his  eye 
quailed  beneath  Rienzi's.  However,  he  recovered 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES        531 

himself  with  the  wonted  readiness  of  an  Italian,  and 
replied  laconically, 

"As  both." 

"  Both !  "  echoed  Rienzi.  "  Then,  indeed,  noble 
Adrian,  you  are  welcome  hither.  And  yet,  methinks, 
if  you  conceived  there  was  no  cause  for  enmity  be- 
tween us,  you  would  have  wooed  the  sister  of  Cola  di 
Rienzi  in  a  guise  more  worthy  of  your  birth ;  and,  per- 
mit me  to  add,  of  that  station  which  God,  destiny,  and 
my  country,  have  accorded  unto  me.  You  dare  not, 
young  Colonna,  meditate  dishonour  to  the  sister  of  the 
Senator  of  Rome.  High-born  as  you  are,  she  is  your 
equal." 

"  Were  I  the  Emperor,  whose  simple  knight  I  but 
am,  your  sister  were  my  equal,"  answered  Adrian, 
warmly.  "  Rienzi,  I  grieve  that  I  am  discovered  to 
you  yet.  I  had  trusted  that,  as  a  mediator  between 
the  Barons  and  yourself,  I  might  first  have  won  your 
confidence,  and  then  claimed  my  reward.  Know  that 
with  to-morrow's  dawn  I  depart  for  Palestrina,  seek- 
ing to  reconcile  my  young  cousin  to  the  choice  of  the 
People  and  the  Pontiff.  Various  reasons,  which  I 
need  not  now  detail,  would  have  made  me  wish  to 
undertake  this  heraldry  of  peace  without  previous 
communication  with  you.  But  since  we  have  met, 
intrust  me  with  any  terms  of  conciliation,  and  I  pledge 
you  the  right  hand,  not  of  a  Roman  noble — alas !  the 
prisca  fides  has  departed  from  that  pledge ! — but  of  a 
Knight  of  the  Imperial  Court,  that  I  will  not  betray 
your  confidence." 

Rienzi,  accustomed  to  read  the  human  countenance, 
had  kept  his  eyes  intently  fixed  upon  Adrian  while 
he  spoke ;  when  the  Colonna  concluded,  he  pressed 
the  proffered  hand,  and  said,  with  that  familiar  and 


532  RIENZI 

winning  sweetness  which  at  times  was  so  peculiar  to 
his  manner, 

"  I  trust  you,  Adrian,  from  my  soul.  You  were 
mine  early  friend  in  calmer,  perchance  happier  years. 
And  never  did  river  reflect  the  stars  more  clearly,  than 
your  heart  then  mirrored  back  the  truth.  I  trust 
you!" 

While  thus  speaking,  he  had  mechanically  led  back 
the  Colonna  to  the  statue  of  the  Lion ;  there  pausing, 
he  resumed : 

"  Know  that  I  have  this  morning  despatched  my 
delegate  to  your  cousin  Stefanello.  With  all  due 
courtesy,  I  have  apprised  him  of  my  return  to  Rome, 
and  invited  hither  his  honoured  presence.  Forgetting 
all  ancient  feuds,  mine  own  past  exile,  I  have  assured 
him,  here,  the  station  and  dignity  due  to  the  head  of 
the  Colonna.  All  that  I  ask  in  return  is  obedience  to 
the  law.  Years  and  reverses  have  abated  my  younger 
pride,  and  though  I  may  yet  preserve  the  sternness  of 
the  Judge,  none  shall  hereafter  complain  of  the  inso- 
lence of  the  Tribune." 

*  "  I  would,"  answered  Adrian,  "  that  your  mission 
to  Stefanello  had  been  delayed  a  day;  I  would  fain 
have  forestalled  its  purport.  Howbeit,  you  increase 
my  desire  of  departure,  should  I  yet  succeed  in  obtain- 
ing an  honourable  and  peaceful  reconciliation,  it  is  not 
in  disguise  that  I  will  woo  your  sister." 

"  And  never  did  Colonna,"  replied  Rienzi,  loftily, 
"  bring  to  his  House  a  maiden  whose  alliance  more 
gratified  ambition.  I  still  see,  as  I  have  seen  ever, 
in  mine  own  projects,  and  mine  own  destinies,  the 
chart  of  the  new  Roman  Empire ! " 

"  Be  not  too  sanguine  yet,  brave  Rienzi,"  replied 
Adrian,  laying  his  hand  on  the  Lion  of  Basalt ;  "  be- 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES        533 

think  thee  on  how  many  scheming  brains  this  dumb 
image  of  stone  hath  looked  down  from  its  pedestal — 
schemes  of  sand,  and  schemers  of  dust.  Thou  hast 
enough,  at  present,  for  the  employ  of  all  thine  energy 
— not  to  extend  thy  power,  but  to  preserve  thyself. 
For,  trust  me,  never  stood  human  greatness  on  so  wild 
and  dark  a  precipice !  " 

"  Thou  art  honest,"  said  the  Senator ;  "  and  these 
are  the  first  words  of  doubt,  and  yet  of  sympathy,  I 
have  heard  in  Rome.  But  the  People  love  me,  the 
Barons  have  fled  from  Rome,  the  Pontiff  approves, 
and  the  swords  of  the  Northmen  guard  the  avenues 
of  the  Capitol.  But  these  are  nought ;  in  mine  own 
honesty  are  my  spear  and  buckler.  Oh,  never,"  con- 
tinued Rienzi,  kindling  with  his  enthusiasm,  "  never 
since  the  days  of  the  old  Republic,  did  Roman  dream 
a  purer  and  a  brighter  aspiration,  than  that  which  an- 
imates and  supports  me  now.  Peace  restored — law 
established — art,  letters,  intellect,  dawning  upon  the 
night  of  time ;  the  Patricians,  no  longer  bandits  of 
rapine,  but  the  guards  of  order;  the  People  ennobled 
from  a  mob,  brave  to  protect,  enlightened  to  guide, 
themselves.  Then,  not  by  the  violence  of  arms,  but 
by  the  majesty  of  her  moral  power,  shall  the  Mother 
of  Nations  claim  the  obedience  of  her  children.  Thus 
dreaming  and  thus  hoping,  shall  I  tremble  or  despond  ? 
No,  Adrian  Colonna,  come  weal  or  woe,  I  abide, 
unshrinking  and  unawed,  by  the  chances  of  my 
doom !  " 

So  much  did  the  manner  and  the  tone  of  the  Sena- 
tor exalt  his  language,  that  even  the  sober  sense  of 
Adrian  was  enchanted  and  subdued.  He  kissed  the 
hand  he  held,  and  said  earnestly, 

"  A  doom  that  I  will  deem  it  my  boast  to  share — a 


534  RIENZI 

career  that  it  will  be  my  glory  to  smooth.  If  I  suc- 
ceed in  my  present  mission " 

"  You  are  my  brother !  "  said  Rienzi. 

"If  I  fail?" 

"  You  may  equally  claim  that  alliance.  You  pause 
— you  change  colour." 

"  Can  I  desert  my  house  ?  " 

"  Young  Lord,"  said  Rienzi,  loftily,  "  say  rather 
can  you  desert  your  country?  If  you  doubt  my  hon- 
esty, if  you  fear  my  ambition,  desist  from  your  task, 
rob  me  not  of  a  single  foe.  But  if  you  believe  that 
I  have  the  will  and  the  power  to  serve  the  state — if 
you  recognise,  even  in  the  reverses  and  calamities 
I  have  known  and  mastered,  the  protecting  hand  of  the 
Saviour  of  Nations — if  those  reverses  were  but  the 
mercies  of  Him  who  chasteneth — necessary,  it  may  be, 
to  correct  my  earlier  daring  and  sharpen  yet  more  my 
intellect — if,  in  a  word,  thou  believest  me  one  whom, 
whatever  be  his  faults,  God  hath  preserved  for  the 
sake  of  Rome,  forget  that  you  are  a  Colonna — remem- 
ber only  that  you  are  a  Roman !  " 

"  You  have  conquered  me,  strange  and  command- 
ing spirit,"  said  Adrian,  in  a  low  voice,  completely 
carried  away;  "  and  whatever  the  conduct  of  my  kin- 
dred, I  am  yours  and  Rome's.  Farewell." 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES        535 

CHAPTER   III 

ADRIAN'S  ADVENTURES  AT  PALESTRINA 

It  was  yet  noon  when  Adrian  beheld  before  him  the 
lofty  mountains  that  shelter  Palestrina,  the  Prcsneste  of 
the  ancient  world.  Back  to  a  period  before  Romulus 
existed,  in  the  earliest  ages  of  that  mysterious  civili- 
sation which  in  Italy  preceded  the  birth  of  Rome, 
could  be  traced  the  existence  and  the  power  of  that 
rocky  city.  Eight  dependent  towns  owned  its  sway 
and  its  wealth ;  its  position,  and  the  strength  of  those 
mighty  walls,  in  whose  ruins  may  yet  be  traced  the 
masonry  of  the  remote  Pelasgi,  had  long  braved  the 
ambition  of  the  neighbouring  Rome.  From  that  very 
citadel,  the  Mural  Crown*  of  the  mountain,  had  waved 
the  standard  of  Marius ;  and  up  the  road  which 
Adrian's  scanty  troop  slowly  wound,  had  echoed  the 
march  of  the  murtherous  Sylla,  on  his  return  from  the 
Mithridatic  war.  Below,  where  the  city  spreads  to- 
wards the  plain,  were  yet  seen  the  shattered  and  roof- 
less columns  of  the  once  celebrated  Temple  of  For- 
tune ;  and  still  the  immemorial  olives  clustered  gray 
and  mournfully  around  the  ruins.  ' 

A  more  formidable  hold  the  Barons  of  Rome  could 
not  have  selected ;  and  as  Adrian's  military  eye 
scanned  the  steep  ascent  and  the  rugged  walls,  he  felt 
that  with  ordinary  skill  it  might  defy  for  months  all  the 
power  of  the  Roman  Senator.  Below,  in  the  fertile 
valley,  dismantled  cottages  and  trampled  harvests  at- 
tested the  violence  and  rapine  of  the  insurgent  Barons ; 

*  Hence,  apparently,  its  Greek  name  of  Stephane.  Pal- 
estrina is  yet  one  of  the  many  proofs  which  the  vicinity  of 
Rome  affords  of  the  old  Greek  civilisation  of  Italy. 


536  RIENZI 

and  at  that  very  moment  were  seen,  in  the  old  plain 
of  the  warlike  Hernici,  troops  of  armed  men,  driving 
before  them  herds  of  sheep  and  cattle,  collected  in 
their  lawless  incursions.  In  sight  of  that  Prceneste, 
which  had  been  the  favourite  retreat  of  the  luxurious 
Lords  of  Rome  in  its  most  polished  day,  the  Age  of 
Iron  seemed  renewed. 

The  banner  of  the  Colonna,  borne  by  Adrian's 
troop,  obtained  ready  admittance  at  the  Porta  del  Sole. 
As  he  passed  up  the  irregular  and  narrow  streets  that 
ascended  to  the  citadel,  groups  of  foreign  mercena- 
ries,— half-ragged,  half-tawdry  knots  of  abandoned 
women, — mixed  here  and  there  with  the  liveries  of  the 
Colonna,  stood  loitering  amidst  the  ruins  of  ancient 
fanes  and  palaces,  or  basked  lazily  in  the  sun,  upon 
terraces,  through  which,  from  amidst  weeds  and  grass, 
glowed  the  imperishable  hues  of  the  rich  mosaics, 
which  had  made  the  pride  of  that  lettered  and  graceful 
nobility,  of  whom  savage  freebooters  were  now  the 
heirs. 

The  contrast  been  the  Past  and  Present  forcibly  oc- 
curred to  Adrian,  as  he  passed  along ;  and,  despite  his 
order,  he  felt  as  if  Civilisation  itself  were  enlisted 
against  his  House  upon  the  side  of  Rienzi. 

Leaving  his  train  in  the  court  of  the  citadel,  Adrian 
demanded  admission  to  the  presence  of  his  cousin. 
He  had  left  Stefanello  a  child  on  his  departure  from 
Rome,  and  there  could  therefore  be  but  a  slight  and 
unfamiliar  acquaintance  betwixt  them,  despite  their 
kindred. 

Peals  of  laughter  came  upon  his  ear,  as  he  followed 
one  of  Stefanello's  gentlemen  through  a  winding  pas- 
sage that  led  to  the  principal  chamber.  The  door  was 
thrown  open,  and  Adrian  found  himself  in  a  rude  hall, 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES        537 

to  which  some  appearance  of  hasty  state  and  attempted 
comfort  had  been  given.  Costly  arras  imperfectly 
clothed  the  stone  walls,  and  the  rich  seats  and  decorated 
tables,  which  the  growing  civilisation  of  the  north- 
ern cities  of  Italy  had  already  introduced  into  the  pal- 
aces of  Italian  nobles,  strangely  contrasted  the  rough 
pavement,  spread  with  heaps  of  armour  negligently 
piled  around.  At  the  farther  end  of  the  apartment, 
Adrian  shudderingly  perceived,  set  in  due  and  exact 
order,  the  implements  of  torture. 

Stefanello  Colonna,  with  two  other  Barons,  indo- 
lently reclined  on  seats  drawn  around  a  table,  in  the 
recess  of  a  deep  casement,  from  which  might  be  still 
seen  the  same  glorious  landscape,  bounded  by  the  dim 
spires  of  Rome,  which  Hannibal  and  Pyrrhus  had  as- 
cended that  very  citadel  to  survey ! 

Stefanello  himself,  in  the  first  bloom  of  youth,  bore 
already  on  his  beardless  countenance  those  traces 
usually  the  work  of  the  passions  and  vices  of  maturest 
manhood.  His  features  were  cast  in  the  mould  of 
the  old  Stephen's  ;  in  their  clear,  sharp,  high-bred  out- 
line might  be  noticed  that  regular  and  graceful  sym- 
metry, which  blood,  in  men  as  in  animals,  will  some- 
times entail  through  generations ;  but  the  features 
were  wasted  and  meagre.  His  brows  were  knit  in  an 
eternal  frown ;  his  thin  and  bloodless  lips  wore  that 
insolent  contempt  which  seems  so  peculiarly  cold  and 
unlovely  in  early  youth ;  and  the  deep  and  livid  hol- 
lows round  his  eyes,  spoke  of  habitual  excess  and  pre- 
mature exhaustion.  By  him  sat  (reconciled  by  hatred 
to  one  another)  the  hereditary  foes  of  his  race  ;  the  soft, 
but  cunning  and  astute  features  of  Luca  di  Savelli, 
contrasted  with  the  broad  frame  and  ferocious  counte- 
nance of  the  Prince  of  the  Orsini. 


538  RIENZI 

The  young  head  of  the  Colonna  rose  with  some 
cordiality  to  receive  his  cousin.  "  Welcome,"  he  said, 
"  dear  Adrian  ;  you  are  arrived  in  time  to  assist  us  with 
your  well-known  military  skill.  Think  you  not  we 
shall  stand  a  long  siege,  if  the  insolent  plebeian  dare 
adventure  it?  You  know  our  friends,  the  Orsini  and 
the  Savelli  ?  Thanks  to  St.  Peter,  or  Peter's  delegate, 
we  have  now  happily  meaner  throats  to  cut  than  those 
of  each  other ! " 

Thus  saying,  Stefanello  again  threw  himself  list- 
lessly on  his  seat,  and  the  shrill,  woman's  voice  of 
Savelli  took  part  in  the  dialogue. 

"  1  would,  noble  Signer,  that  you  had  come  a  few 
hours  earlier:  we  are  still  making  merry  at  the  recol- 
lection— he,  he,  he !  " 

"  Ah,  excellent,"  cried  Stefanello,  joining  in  the 
laugh ;  "  our  cousin  has  had  a  loss.  Know  Adrian, 
that  this  base  fellow,  whom  the  Pope  has  had  the  im- 
pudence to  create  Senator,  dared  but  yesterday  to  send 
us  a  varlet,  whom  he  called — by  our  Lady ! — his  am- 
bassador! " 

"  Would  you  could  have  seen  his  mantle,  Signer 
Adrian !  "  chimed  in  the  Savelli :  "  purple  velvet,  as  1 
live,  decorated  in  gold,  with  the  arms  of  Rome :  we 
soon  spoiled  his  finery." 

"  What !  "  exclaimed  Adrian,  "  you  did  not  break 
the  laws  of  all  nobility  and  knighthood? — you  offered 
no  insult  to  a  herald !  " 

"  Herald,  sayest  thou  ?  "  cried  Stefanello,  frowning 
till  his  eyes  were  scarce  visible.  "  It  is  for  Princes  and 
Barons  alone  to  employ  heralds.  An  I  had  had  my 
will,  I  would  have  sent  back  the  minion's  head  to  the 
usurper." 

"  What  did  ye  then  ?  "  asked  Adrian,  coldly. 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES        539 

"  Bade  our  swineherds  dip  the  fellow  in  the  ditch, 
and  gave  him  a  night's  lodging  in  a  dungeon  to  dry 
himself  withal." 

"  And  this  morning — he,  he,  he  !  "  added  the  Savelli, 
"  we  had  him  before  us,  and  drew  his  teeth,  one  by 
one ; — I  would  you  could  have  heard  the  fellow  mum- 
ble out  for  mercy  !  " 

Adrian  rose  hastily,  and  struck  the  table  fiercely 
with  his  gauntlet. 

"  Stefanello  Colonna,"  said  he,  colouring  with  noble 
rage,  "  answer  me :  did  you  dare  to  inflict  this  indeli- 
ble disgrace  upon  the  name  we  jointly  bear?  Tell  me, 
at  least,  that  you  protested  against  this  foul  treason  to 
all  the  laws  of  civilisation  and  of  honour.  You  answer 
not.  House  of  the  Colonna,  can  such  be  thy  repre- 
sentative !  " 

"  To  me  these  words !  "  said  Stefanello,  trembling 
with  passion.  "  Beware !  Methinks  thou  art  the 
traitor,  leagued  perhaps  with  yon  rascal  mob.  Well 
do  I  remember  that  thou,  the  betrothed  of  the  Dema- 
gogue's sister,  didst  not  join  with  my  uncle  and  my 
father  of  old,  but  didst  basely  leave  the  city  to  her 
plebeian  tyrant." 

"  That  did  he !  "  said  the  fierce  Orsini,  approaching 
Adrian  menacingly,  while  the  gentle  cowardice  of 
Savelli  sought  in  vain  to  pluck  him  back  by  the  mantle 
— "  that  did  he !  and  but  for  thy  presence,  Stefa- 
nello— 

"  Coward  and  blusterer !  "  interrupted  Adrian,  fairly 
beside  himself  with  indignation  and  shame,  and  dash- 
ing his  gauntlet  in  the  very  face  of  the  advancing 
Orsini — "  wouldst  thou  threaten  one  who  has  main- 
tained, in  every  list  of  Europe,  and  against  the  stoutest 
Chivalry  of  the  North,  the  honour  of  Rome,  which  thy 


540  RIENZI 

deeds  the  while  disgraced  ?  By  this  gage,  I  spit  upon 
and  defy  thee.  With  lance  and  with  brand,  on  horse 
and  on  foot,  I  maintain  against  thee  and  all  thy  line, 
that  thou  art  no  knight  to  have  thus  maltreated,  in  thy 
strongholds,  a  peaceful  and  unarmed  herald.  Yes, 
even  here,  on  the  spot  of  thy  disgrace,  I  challenge 
thee  to  arms !  " 

"  To  the  court  below  !  Follow  me,"  said  Orsini  sul- 
lenly, and  striding  towards  the  threshold.  "  What,  ho 
there  !  my  helmet  and  breastplate  !  " 

"  Stay,  noble  Orsini,"  said  Stefanello.  "  The  in- 
sult offered  to  thee  is  my  quarrel — mine  was  the 
deed — and  against  me  speaks  this  degenerate  scion 
of  our  line.  Adrian  di  Castello — sometime  called 
Colonna — surrender  your  sword :  you  are  my  pris- 
oner !  " 

"  Oh !  "  said  Adrian,  grinding  his  teeth,  "  that  my 
ancestral  blood  did  not  flow  through  thy  veins — else — 
but  enough !  Me !  your  equal,  and  the  favoured 
Knight  of  the  Emperor,  whose  advent  now  brightens 
the  frontiers  of  Italy  ! — me — you  dare  not  detain.  For 
your  friends,  I  shall  meet  them  yet  perhaps,  ere  many 
days  are  over,  where  none  shall  separate  our  swords. 
Till  then,  remember,  Orsini,  that  it  is  against  no  un- 
practised arm  that  thou  wilt  have  to  redeem  thine 
honour ! " 

Adrian,  his  drawn  sword  in  his  hand,  strode  towards 
the  door,  and  passed  the  Orsini,  who  stood,  lowering 
and  irresolute,  in  the  centre  of  the  apartment. 

"  Savelli,"  whispered  Stefanello.  "  He  says,  '  Ere 
many  days  be  past ! '  Be  sure,  dear  Signor,  that  he 
goes  to  join  Rienzi.  Remember,  the  alliance  he  once 
sought  with  the  Tribune's  sister  may  be  renewed.  Be- 
ware of  him !  Ought  he  to  leave  the  castle  ?  The 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES        541 

name  of  a  Colonna,  associated  with  the  mob,  would 
distract  and  divide  half  our  strength." 

"  Fear  me  not,"  returned  Stefanello,  with  a  malig- 
nant smile.  "  Ere  you  spoke,  I  had  determined !  " 

The  young  Colonna  lifted  the  arras  from  the  wall, 
opened  a  door,  and  passed  into  a  low  hall,  in  which 
sate  twenty  mercenaries. 

"  Quick !  "  said  he.  "  Seize  and  disarm  yon  stranger 
in  the  green  mantle — but  slay  him  not.  Bid  the  guard 
below  find  dungeons  for  his  train.  Quick!  ere  he 
reach  the  gate." 

Adrian  had  gained  the  open  hall  below — his  train 
and  his  steed  were  in  sight  in  the  court — when  sud- 
denly the  soldiery  of  the  Colonna,  rushing  through 
another  passage  than  that  which  he  had  passed,  sur- 
rounded and  intercepted  his  retreat. 

"  Yield  thee,  Adrian  di  Castello,"  cried  Stefanello 
from  the  summit  of  the  stairs ;  "  or  your  blood  be  on 
your  own  head." 

Three  steps  did  Adrian  make  through  the  press, 
and  three  of  his  enemies  fell  beneath  his  sword.  "  To 
the  rescue !  "  he  shouted  to  his  band,  and  already  those 
bold  and  daring  troopers  had  gained  the  hall.  Pres- 
ently the  alarum  bell  tolled  loud — the  court  swarmed 
with  soldiers.  Oppressed  by  numbers,  beat  down 
rather  than  subdued,  Adrian's  little  train  was  soon 
secured,  and  the  flower  of  the  Colonna,  wounded, 
breathless,  disarmed,  but  still  uttering  loud  defiance, 
was  a  prisoner  in  the  fortress  of  his  kinsman. 


542  RIENZI 


CHAPTER   IV 

THE    POSITION    OF    THE    SENATOR THE    WORK    OF 

YEARS THE    REWARDS    OF   AMBITION 

The  indignation  of  Rienzi  may  readily  be  conceived, 
on  the  return  of  his  herald  mutilated  and  dishonoured. 
His  temper,  so  naturally  stern,  was  rendered  yet  more 
hard  by  the  remembrance  of  his  wrongs  and  trials; 
and  the  result  which  attended  his  overtures  of  concilia- 
tion to  Stefanello  Colonna  stung  him  to  the  soul. 

The  bell  of  the  Capitol  tolled  to  arms  within  ten 
minutes  after  the  return  of  the  herald.  The  great 
gonfalon  of  Rome  was  unfurled  on  the  highest  tower ; 
and  the  very  evening  after  Adrian's  arrest,  the  forces 
of  the  Senator,  headed  by  Rienzi  in  person,  were  on 
the  road  to  Palestrina.  The  troopers  of  the  Barons 
had,  however,  made  incursions  as  far  as  Tivoli  with 
the  supposed  connivance  of  the  inhabitants,  and  Rienzi 
halted  at  that  beautiful  spot  to  raise  recruits,  and  re- 
ceive the  allegiance  of  the  suspected,  while  his  soldiers, 
with  Arimbaldo  and  Brettone  at  their  head,  went  in 
search  of  the  marauders.  The  brothers  of  Montreal 
returned  late  at  night  with  the  intelligence,  that  the 
troopers  of  the  Barons  had  secured  themselves  amidst 
the  recesses  of  the  wood  of  Pantano. 

The  red  spot  mounted  to  Rienzi's  brow.  He  gazed 
hard  at  Brettone,  who  stated  the  news  to  him,  and  a 
natural  suspicion  shot  across  his  mind. 

"  How ! — escaped !  "  he  said.  "  Is  it  possible  ? 
Enough  of  such  idle  skirmishes  with  these  lordly  rob- 
bers.,. Will  the  hour  ever  come  when  I  shall  meet 
them  hand  to  hand?  Brettone,"  and  the  brother  of 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES        543 

Montreal  felt  the  dark  eye  of  Rienzi  pierce  to  his  very 
heart :  "  Brettone  !  "  said  he,  with  an  abrupt  change  of 
voice,  "  are  your  men  to  be  trusted?  Is  there  no  con- 
nivance with  the  Barons  ?  " 

"  How ! "  said  Brettone,  sullenly,  but  somewhat 
confused. 

"  How  me  no  hows !  "  quoth  the  Tribune-Senator, 
fiercely.  "  I  know  that  thou  art  a  valiant  Captain  of 
valiant  men.  Thou  and  thy  brother  Arimbaldo  have 
served  me  well,  and  I  have  rewarded  ye  well !  Have 
I  not?  Speak!" 

"  Senator,"  answered  Arimbaldo,  taking  up  the 
word,  "  you  have  kept  your  word  to  us.  You  have 
raised  us  to  the  highest  rank  your  power  could  bestow, 
and  this  has  amply  atoned  our  humble  services." 

"  I  am  glad  ye  allow  thus  much,"  said  the  Tribune. 

Arimbaldo  proceeded,  somewhat  more  loftily,  "  I 
trust,  my  Lord,  you  do  not  .doubt  us  ?  " 

"  Arimbaldo,"  replied  Rienzi,  in  a  voice  of  deep, 
but  half-suppressed  emotion  ;  "  you  are  a  lettered  man, 
and  you  have  seemed  to  share  my  projects  for  the  re- 
generation of  our  common  kind.  You  ought  not  to 
betray  me.  There  is  something  in  unison  between 
us.  But,  chide  me  not,  I  am  surrounded  by  trea- 
son, and  the  very  air  I  breathe  seems  to  poison  my 
lips." 

There  was  a  pathos  mingled  with  Rienzi's  words 
which  touched  the  milder  brother  of  Montreal.  He 
bowed  in  silence.  Rienzi  surveyed  him  wistfully,  and 
sighed.  Then,  changing  the  conversation,  he  spoke 
of  their  intended  siege  of  Palestrina,  and  shortly  after- 
wards retired  to  rest. 

Left  alone,  the  brothers  regarded  each  other  for 
some  moments  in  silence.  "  Brettone,"  said  Arim- 


544  RIENZI 

baldo,  at  length,  in  a  whispered  voice,  "  my  heart  mis- 
gives me.  I  like  not  Walter's  ambitious  schemes. 
With  our  own  countrymen  we  are  frank  and  loyal,  why 
play  the  traitor  with  this  high-souled  Roman  ?  "  * 

"  Tush !  "  said  Brettone.  "  Our  brother's  hand  of 
iron  alone  can  sway  this  turbulent  people ;  and  if 
Rienzi  be  betrayed,  so  also  his  enemies,  the  Barons. 
No  more  of  this !  I  have  tidings  from  Montreal ;  he 
will  be  in  Rome  in  a  few  days." 

"  And  then !  " 

"  Rienzi,  weakened  by  the  Barons  (for  he  must 
not  conquer) — the  Barons,  weakened  by  Rienzi — our 
Northmen  seize  the  Capitol,  and  the  soldiery,  now 
scattered  throughout  Italy,  will  fly  to  the  standard  of 
the  Grand  Captain.  Montreal  must  be  first  Podesta, 
then  King,  of  Rome." 

Arimbaldo  moved  restlessly  in  his  seat,  and  the 
brethren  conferred  no  more  on  their  projects. 

The  situation  of  Rienzi  was  precisely  that  which 
tends  the  most  to  sour  and  to  harden  the  fairest  nature. 
With  an  intellect  capable  of  the  grandest  designs,  a 
heart  that  beats  with  the  loftiest  emotions,  elevated  to 
the  sunny  pinnacle  of  power  and  surrounded  by  loud- 
tongued  adulators,  he  knew  not  among  men  a  single 
breast  in  which  he  could  confide.  He  was  as  one  on 
a  steep  ascent,  whose  footing  crumbles,  while  every 
bough  at  which  he  grasps  seems  to  rot  at  his  touch. 
He  found  the  people  more  than  ever  eloquent  in  his 
favour,  but  while  they  shouted  raptures  as  he  passed, 
not  a  man  was  capable  of  making  a  sacrifice  for  him! 

*  The  anonymous  biographer  of  Rienzi  makes  the  follow- 
ing just  remark:  "  Sono  li  tedeschi,  come  discendon  de  la 
Alemagna,  semplici,  puri,  senza  fraude,  come  si  allocano  tra' 
taliani,  diyentano  mastri  coduti,  viziosi,  che  sentono  ogni 
malizia." — Vii.  di  Col.  di  Riensi,  lib.  ii.  cap.  16. 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES        545 

The  liberty  of  a  state  is  never  achieved  by  a  single  in- 
dividual ;  if  not  the  people — if  not  the  greater  num- 
ber— a  zealous  and  fervent  minority,  at  least,  must  go 
hand  in  hand  with  him.  Rome  demanded  sacrifices 
in  all  who  sought  the  Roman  regeneration — sacrifices 
of  time,  ease,  and  money.  The  crowd  followed  the 
procession  of  the  Senator,  but  not  a  single  Roman 
devoted  his  life,  unpaid,  to  his  standard ;  not  a  sin- 
gle coin  was  subscribed  in  the  defence  of  freedom. 
Against  him  were  arrayed  the  most  powerful  and  the 
most  ferocious  Barons  of  Italy ;  each  of  whom  could 
maintain,  at  his  own  cost,  a  little  army  of  practised 
warriors.  With  Rienzi  were  traders  and  artificers,  who 
were  willing  to  enjoy  the  fruits  of  liberty,  but  not  to 
labour  at  the  soil ;  who  demanded,  in  return  for  empty 
shouts,  peace  and  riches ;  and  who  expected  that  one 
man  was  to  effect  in  a  day  what  would  be  cheaply 
purchased  by  the  struggle  of  a  generation.  All  their 
dark  and  rude  notion  of  a  reformed  state  was  to  live 
unbutchered  by  the  Barons  and  untaxed  by  their  gov- 
ernors. Rome,  I  say,  gave  to  her  Senator  not  a  free 
arm,  nor  a  voluntary  florin.*  Well  aware  of  the  dan- 
ger which  surrounds  the  ruler  who  defends  his  state 
by  foreign  swords,  the  fondest  wish,  and  the  most 
visionary  dream  of  Rienzi,  was  to  revive  amongst  the 
Romans,  in  their  first  enthusiasm  at  his  return,  an 
organised  and  voluntary  force,  who,  in  protecting  him, 
would  protect  themselves : — not,  as  before,  in  his  first 
power,  a  nominal  force  of  twenty  thousand  men,  who 
at  any  hour  might  yield  (as  they  did  yield)  to  one 
hundred  and  fifty ;  but  a  regular,  well  disciplined  and 
trusty  body,  numerous  enough  to  resist  aggression, 

*  This  plain   fact   is   thoroughly   borne   out   by   every  au- 
thority. 

35 


546  RIENZI 

not  numerous  enough  to  become  themselves  the  ag- 
gressors. 

Hitherto  all  his  private  endeavours,  his  public  ex- 
hortations, had  failed  ;  the  crowd  listened — shouted — 
saw  him  quit  the  city  to  meet  their  tyrants,  and  re- 
turned to  their  shops  saying  to  each  other,  "  What  a 
great  man !  " 

The  character  of  Rienzi  has  chiefly  received  for  its 
judges  men  of  the  closet,  who  speculate  upon  human 
beings  as  if  they  were  machines ;  who  gauge  the  great, 
not  by  their  merit,  but  by  their  success ;  and  who  have 
censured  or  sneered  at  the  Tribune,  where  they  should 
have  condemned  the  People !  Had  but  one-half  the 
spirit  been  found  in  Rome  which  ran  through  a  single 
vein  of  Cola  di  Rienzi,  the  august  Republic,  if  not  the 
majestic  empire,  of  Rome,  might  be  existing  now! 
Turning  from  the  people,  the  Senator  saw  his  rude 
and  savage  troops,  accustomed  to  the  licence  of  a 
tyrant's  camp,  and  under  commanders  in  whom  it  was 
ruin  really  to  confide — whom  it  was  equal  ruin  openly 
to  distrust.  Hemmed  in  on  every  side  by  dangers, 
his  character  daily  grew  more  restless,  vigilant,  and 
stern ;  and  still,  with  all  the  aims  of  the  patriot,  he  felt 
all  the  curses  of  the  tyrant.  Without  the  rough  and 
hardening  career  which,  through  a  life  of  warfare,  had 
brought  Cromwell  to  a  similar  power — with  more  of 
grace  and  intellectual  softness  in  Tiis  composition,  he 
resembled  that  yet  greater  man  in  some  points  of 
character — in  his  religious  enthusiasm ;  his  rigid  jus- 
tice, often  forced  by  circumstance  into  severity,  but 
never  wantonly  cruel  or  blood-thirsty ;  in  his  singular 
pride  of  country ;  and  his  mysterious  command  over 
the  minds  of  others.  But  he  resembled  the  giant 
Englishman  far  more  in  circumstance  than  original 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES        547 

nature,  and  that  circumstance  assimilated  their  charac- 
ters at  the  close  of  their  several  careers.  Like  Crom- 
well, beset  by  secret  or  open  foes,  the  assassin's  dag- 
ger ever  gleamed  before  his  eyes ;  and  his  stout  heart, 
unawed  by  real,  trembled  at  imagined,  terrors.  The 
countenance  changing  suddenly  from  red  to  white — • 
the  bloodshot,  restless  eye,  belying  the  composed  maj- 
esty of  mien — the  muttering  lips — the  broken  slum- 
ber— the  secret  corselet ; — these  to  both  were  the 
rewards  of  Power! 

The  elasticity  of  youth  had  left  the  Tribune !  His 
frame,  which  had  endured  so  many  shocks,  had  con- 
tracted a  painful  disease  in  the  dungeon  at  Avignon* 
— his  high  soul  still  supported  him,  but  the  nerves 
gave  way.  Tears  came  readily  into  his  eyes,  and  often, 
like  Cromwell,  he  was  thought  to  weep  from  hypocrisy, 
when  in  truth  it  was  the  hysteric  of  overwrought  and 
irritable  emotion.  In  all  his  former  life  singularly 
temperate,!  he  now  fled  from  his  goading  thoughts  to 
the  beguiling  excitement  of  wine.  He  drank  deep, 
though  its  effects  were  never  visible  upon  him  except 
in  a  freer  and  wilder  mood,  and  the  indulgence  of  that 
racy  humour,  half-mirthful,  half-bitter,  for  which  his 
younger  days  had  been  distinguished.  Now  the  mirth 
had  more  loudness,  but  the  bitterness  more  gall. 

Such  were  the  characteristics  of  Rienzi  at  his  return 
to  power — made  more  apparent  with  every  day.  Nina 
he  still  loved  with  the  same  tenderness,  and,  if  pos- 

*  "  Dicea  che  ne  la  prigione  era  stato  ascarmato." — Vit.  di 
Col.  di  Rienzi,  lib.  ii.  cap.  18. 

t  "  Solea  prima  esser  sobrio,  temperate,  astinente,  ora  e 
diventato  distemperatissimo  bevitore,"  &c. — Ibid. 

"At  first  he  used  to  be  sober,  temperate,  abstinent;  now  he 
is  become  a  most  intemperate  drinker,"  &c. — Life  of  Cola  di 
Rienzi. 


548  RIENZI 

sible,  she  adored  him  more  than  ever;  but,  the  zest 
and  freshness  of  triumphant  ambition  gone,  somehow 
or  other,  their  intercourse  together  had  not  its  old 
charm.  Formerly  they  talked  constantly  of  the  future 
— of  the  bright  days  in  store  for  them.  Now,  with  a 
sharp  and  uneasy  pang,  Rienzi  turned  from  all  thought 
of  that  "  gay  to-morrow."  There  was  no  "  gay  to- 
morrow "  for  him !  Dark  and  thorny  as  was  the  pres- 
ent hour,  all  beyond  seemed  yet  less  cheering  and 
more  ominous.  Still  he  had  some  moments,  brief  but 
brilliant,  when,  forgetting  the  iron  race  amongst  whom 
he  was  thrown,  he  plunged  into  scholastic  reveries  of 
the  worshipped  Past,  and  half  fancied  that  he  was  of 
a  People  worthy  of  his  genius  and  his  devotion.  Like 
most  men  who  have  been  preserved  through  great 
dangers,  he  continued  with  increasing  fondness  to 
nourish  a  credulous  belief  in  the  grandeur  of  his  own 
destiny.  He  could  not  imagine  that  he  had  been  so 
delivered,  and  for  no  end !  He  was  the  Elected,  and 
therefore  the  Instrument,  of  Heaven.  And  thus,  that 
Bible  which  in  his  loneliness,  his  wanderings,  and  his 
prison,  had  been  his  solace  and  support,  was  more 
than  ever  needed  in  his  greatness. 

It  was  another  cause  of  sorrow  and  chagrin  to  one 
who,  amidst  such  circumstances  of  public  danger,  re- 
quired so  peculiarly  the  support  and  sympathy  of  pri- 
vate friends, — that  he  found  he  had  incurred  amongst 
his  old  coadjutors  the  common  penalty  of  absence. 
A  few  were  dead ;  others,  wearied  with  the  storms  of 
public  life,  and  chilled  in  their  ardour  by  the  turbulent 
revolutions  to  which,  in  every  effort  for  her  ameliora- 
tion, Rome  had  been  subjected,  had  retired, — some 
altogether  from  the  city,  some  from  all  participation 
in  political  affairs.  In  his  halls,  the  Tribune-Senator 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES        549 

was  surrounded  by  unfamiliar  faces,  and  a  new  gen- 
eration. Of  the  heads  of  the  popular  party,  most  were 
animated  by  a  stern  dislike  to  the  Pontifical  domina- 
tion, and  looked  with  suspicion  and  repugnance  upon 
one  who,  if  he  governed  for  the  People,  had  been 
trusted  and  honoured  by  the  Pope.  Rienzi  was  not 
a  man  to  forget  former  friends,  however  lowly,  and 
had  already  found  time  to  seek  an  interview  with 
Cecco  del  Vecchio.  But  that  stern  Republican  had 
received  him  with  coldness.  His  foreign  mercenaries, 
and  his  title  of  Senator  were  things  that  the  artisan 
could  not  digest.  With  his  usual  bluntness,  he  had 
said  so  to  Rienzi. 

"  As  for  the  last,"  answered  the  Tribune,  affably, 
"  names  do  not  alter  natures.  When  I  forget  that  to 
be  delegate  to  the  Pontiff  is  to  be  the  guardian  of  his 
flock,  forsake  me.  As  for  the  first,  let  me  but  see  five 
hundred  Romans  sworn  to  stand  armed  day  and  night 
for  the  defence  of  Rome,  and  I  dismiss  the  North- 
men." 

Cecco  del  Vecchio  was  unsoftened ;  honest,  but  un- 
educated— impracticable,  and  by  nature  a  malcontent, 
he  felt  as  if  he  were  no  longer  necessary  to  the  Sena- 
tor, and  this  offended  his  pride.  Strange  as  it  may 
seem,  the  sullen  artisan  bore,  too,  a  secret  grudge 
against  Rienzi,  for  not  having  seen  and  selected  him 
from  a  crowd  of  thousands  on  the  day  of  his  triumphal 
entry.  Such  are  the  small  offences  which  produce 
deep  danger  to  the  great! 

The  artisans  still  held  their  meetings,  and  Cecco  del 
Vecchio's  voice  was  heard  loud  in  grumbling  fore- 
bodings. But  what  wounded  Rienzi  yet  more  than 
the  alienation  of  the  rest,  was  the  confused  and 
altered  manner  of  his  old  friend  and  familiar,  Pan- 


550  RIENZI 

dulfo  di  Guido.  Missing  that  popular  citizen  among 
those  who  daily  offered  their  homage  at  the  Capitol, 
he  had  sent  for  him,  and  sought  in  vain  to  revive  their 
ancient  intimacy.  Pandulfo  affected  great  respect, 
but  not  all  the  condescension  of  the  Senator  could  con- 
quer his  distance  and  his  restraint.  In  fact,  Pandulfo 
had  learned  to  form  ambitious  projects  of  his  own ; 
and  but  for  the  return  of  Rienzi,  Pandulfo  di  Guido 
felt  that  he  might  now,  with  greater  safety,  and  indeed 
with  some  connivance  from  the  Barons,  have  been  the 
Tribune  of  the  People.  The  facility  to  rise  into  pop- 
ular eminence  which  a  disordered  and  corrupt  state, 
unblest  by  a  regular  constitution,  offers  to  ambition, 
breeds  the  jealousy  and  the  rivalship  which  destroy 
union,  and  rot  away  the  ties  of  party. 

Such  was  the  situation  of  Rienzi,  and  yet,  wonder- 
ful to  say,  he  seemed  to  be  adored  by  the  multitude ; 
and  law  and  liberty,  life  and  death,  were  in  his  hands ! 

Of  all  those  who  attended  his  person,  Angelo  Vil- 
lani  was  the  most  favoured ;  that  youth  who  had  ac- 
companied Rienzi  in  his  long  exile,  had  also,  at  the 
wish  of  Nina,  attended  him  from  Avignon,  through 
his  sojourn  in  the  camp  of  Albornoz.  His  zeal,  intel- 
ligence, and  frank  and  evident  affection,  blinded  the 
Senator  to  the  faults  of  his  character,  and  established 
him  more  and  more  in  the  gratitude  of  Rienzi.  He 
loved  to  feel  that  one  faithful  heart  beat  near  him, 
and  the  page,  raised  to  the  rank  of  his  chamberlain, 
always  attended  his  person,  and  slept  in  his  ante- 
chamber. 

Retiring  that  night  at  Tivoli,  to  the  apartment  pre- 
pared for  him,  the  Senator  sat  down  by  the  open  case- 
ment, through  which  were  seen,  waving  in  the  star- 
light, the  dark  pines  that  crowned  the  hills,  while  the 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES        551 

stillness  of  the  hour  gave  to  his  ear  the  dash  of  the 
waterfalls  heard  above  the  regular  and  measured  tread 
of  the  sentinels  below.  Leaning  his  cheek  upon  his 
hand,  Rienzi  long  surrendered  himself  to  gloomy 
thought,  and,  when  he  looked  up,  he  saw  the  bright 
blue  eye  of  Villani  fixed  in  anxious  sympathy  on  his 
countenance. 

"  Is  my  Lord  unwell  ?  "  asked  the  young  chamber- 
lain, hesitating. 

"  Not  so,  my  Angelo ;  but  somewhat  sick  at  heart. 
Methinks,  for  a  September  night,  the  air  is  chill !  " 

"  Angelo,"  resumed  Rienzi,  who  had  already  ac- 
quired that  uneasy  curiosity  which  belongs  to  an 
uncertain  power, — "  Angelo,  bring  me  hither  yon 
writing  implements;  hast  thou  heard  aught  what  the 
men  say  of  our  probable  success  against  Pales- 
trina?" 

"  Would  my  Lord  wish  to  learn  all  their  gossip, 
whether  it  please  or  not  ?  "  answered  Villani. 

"  If  I  studied  only  to  hear  what  pleased  me,  Angelo, 
I  should  never  have  returned  to  Rome." 

"  Why,  then,  I  heard  a  constable  of  the  Northmen 
say,  meaningly,  that  the  place  will  not  be  carried." 

"  Humph !  And  what  said  the  captains  of  my 
Roman  Legion  ?  " 

"  My  Lord,  I  have  heard  it  whispered  that  they  fear 
defeat  less  than  they  do  the  revenge  of  the  Barons, 
if  they  are  successful." 

"  And  with  such  tools  the  living  race  of  Europe 
and  misjudging  posterity  will  deem  that  the  workman 
is  to  shape  out  the  Ideal  and  the  Perfect !  Bring  me 
yon  Bible." 

As  Angelo  reverently  brought  to  Rienzi  the  sacred 
book,  he  said, 


552  RIENZI 

"  Just  before  I  left  my  companions  below,  there  was 
a  rumour  that  the  Lord  Adrian  Colonna  had  been  im- 
prisoned by  his  kinsman." 

"  I  too  heard,  and  I  believe,  as  much,"  returned 
Rienzi :  "  these  Barons  would  gibbet  their  own  chil- 
dren in  irons,  if  there  were  any  chance  of  the  shackles 
growing  rusty  for  want  of  prey.  But  the  wicked  shall 
be  brought  low,  and  their  strong  places  shall  be  made 
desolate." 

"  I  would,  my  Lord,"  said  Villani,  "  that  our 
Northmen  had  other  captains  than  these  Proven- 
c,als." 

"  Why  ?  "  asked  Rienzi,  abruptly. 

"  Have  the  creatures  of  the  Captain  of  the  Grand 
Company  ever  held  faith  with  any  man  whom  it  suited 
the  avarice  or  the  ambition  of  Montreal  to  betray? 
Was  he  not,  a  few  months  ago,  the  right  arm  of  John 
di  Vico,  and  did  he  not  sell  his  services  to  John  di 
Vico's  enemy,  the  Cardinal  Albornoz?  These  war- 
riors barter  men  as  cattle." 

"  Thou  describest  Montreal  rightly :  a  dangerous 
and  an  awful  man.  But  methinks  his  brothers  are  of 
a  duller  and  meaner  kind ;  they  dare  not  the  crimes  of 
the  Robber  Captain.  Howbeit,  Angelo,  thou  hast 
touched  a  string  that  will  make  discord  with  sleep 
tp-night.  Fair  youth,  thy  young  eyes  have  need  of 
slumber;  withdraw,  and  when  thou  hearest  men  envy 
Rienzi,  think  that— 

"  God  never  made  Genius  to  be  envied !  "  inter- 
rupted Villani,  with  an  energy  that  overcame  his  re- 
spect. "  We  envy  not  the  sun,  but  rather  the  valleys 
that  ripen  beneath  his  beams." 

"  Verily,  if  I  be  the  sun,"  said  Rienzi,  with  a  bitter 
and  melancholy  smile,  "  I  long  for  night, — and  come 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES        553 

it  will,  to  the  human  as  to  the  celestial  Pilgrim-! — • 
Thank  Heaven  at  least,  that  our  ambition  cannot  make 
us  immortal ! " 


CHAPTER   V 

THE  BITER  BIT 

The  next  morning,  when  Rienzi  descended  to  the 
room  where  his  captains  awaited  him,  his  quick  eye 
perceived  that  a  cloud  still  lowered  upon  the  brow  of 
Messere  Brettone.  Arimbaldo,  sheltered  by  the  re- 
cess of  the  rude  casement,  shunned  his  eye. 

"  A  fair  morning,  gentles,"  said  Rienzi ;  "  the  Sun 
laughs  upon  our  enterprise.  I  have  messengers  from 
Rome  betimes — fresh  troops  will  join  us  ere  noon." 

"  I  am  glad,  Senator,"  answered  Brettone,  "  that 
you  have  tidings  which  will  counteract  the  ill  of  those 
I  have  to  narrate  to  thee.  The  soldiers  murmur 
loudly — their  pay  is  due  to  them ;  and,  I  fear  me,  that 
without  money  they  will  not  march  to  Palestrina." 

"  As  they  will,"  returned  Rienzi,  carelessly.  "  It  is 
but  a  few  days  since  they  entered  Rome ;  pay  did  they 
receive  in  advance — if  they  demand  more,  the  Colonna 
and  Orsini  may  outbid  me.  Draw  off  your  soldiers, 
Sir  Knight,  and  farewell." 

Brettone's  countenance  fell — it  was  his  object  to  get 
Rienzi  more  and  more  in  his  power,  and  he  wished 
not  to  suffer  him  to  gain  that  strength  which  would 
accrue  to  him  from  the  fall  of  Palestrina :  the  indiffer- 
ence of  the  Senator  foiled  and  entrapped  him  in  his 
own  net. 

"  That  must  not  be,"  said  the  brother  of  Montreal, 
after  a  confused  silence ;  "  we  cannot  leave  you  thus 


554  RIENZI 

to  your  enemies — the  soldiers,  it  is  true,  demand 
pay 

"  And  should  have  it,"  said  Rienzi.  "  I  know  these 
mercenaries — it  is  ever  with  them,  mutiny  or  money. 
I  will  throw  myself  on  my  Romans,  and  triumph — or 
fall,  if  so  Heaven  decrees,  with  them.  Acquaint  your 
constables  with  my  resolve," 

Scarce  were  these  words  spoken,  ere,  as  previously 
concerted  with  Brettone,  the  chief  constable  of  the 
mercenaries  appeared  at  the  door.  "  Senator,"  said 
he,  with  a  rough  semblance  of  aspect,  "  your  orders 
to  march  have  reached  me,  I  have  sought  to  marshal 
my  men — but " 

"  I  know  what  thou  wouldst  say,  friend,"  interrupted 
Rienzi,  waving  his  hand :  "  Messere  Brettone  will  give 
you  my  reply.  Another  time,  Sir  Captain,  more  cere- 
mony with  the  Senator  of  Rome — you  may  withdraw." 

The  unforeseen  dignity  of  Rienzi  rebuked  and 
abashed  the  constable ;  he  looked  at  Brettone,  who 
motioned  him  to  depart.  He  closed  the  door  and 
withdrew. 

"  What  is  to  be  done  ?  "  said  Brettone. 

"  Sir  Knight,"  replied  Rienzi,  gravely,  "  let  us  un- 
derstand each  other.  Would  you  serve  me  or  not? 
If  the  first,  you  are  not  my  equal,  but  subordinate — 
and  you  must  obey  and  not  dictate ;  if  the  last,  my 
debt  to  you  shall  be  discharged,  and  the  world  is  wide 
enough  for  both." 

"  We  have  declared  allegiance  to  you,"  answered 
Brettone,  "  and  it  shall  be  given." 

"  One  caution  before  I  re-accept  your  fealty,"  replied 
Rienzi,  very  slowly.  "  For  an  open  foe,  I  have  my 
sword — for  a  traitor,  mark  me,  Rome  has  the  axe ; 
of  the  first  I  have  no  fear;  for  the  last,  no  mercy." 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES        555 

"  These  are  not  words  that  should  pass  between 
friends,"  said  Brettone,  turning  pale  with  suppressed 
emotion. 

"  Friends  ! — ye  are  my  friends,  then ! — your  hands  ! 
Friends,  so  you  are  ! — and  shall  prove  it !  Dear  Arim- 
baldo,  thou,  like  myself,  art  book-learned, — a  clerkly 
soldier.  Dost  thou  remember  how  in  the  Roman  his- 
tory it  is  told  that  the  Treasury  lacked  money  for  the 
soldiers  ?  The  Consul  convened  the  Nobles.  '  Ye,' 
said  he,  '  that  have  the  offices  and  dignity  should  be 
the  first  to  pay  for  them.'  Ye  heed  me,  my  friends ; 
the  nobles  took  the  hint,  they  found  the  money — the 
army  was  paid.  This  example  is  not  lost  on  you.  I 
have  made  you  the  leaders  of  my  force,  Rome  hath 
showered  her  honours  on  you.  Your  generosity  shall 
commence  the  example  which  the  Romans  shall  thus 
learn  of  strangers.  Ye  gaze  at  me,  my  friends!  I 
read  your  noble  souls — and  thank  ye  beforehand.  Ye 
have  the  dignity  and  the  office ;  ye  have  also  the 
wealth  ! — pay  the  hirelings,  pay  them !  "  * 

Had  a  thunderbolt  fallen  at  the  feet  of  Brettone,  he 
could  not  have  been  more  astounded  than  at  this  sim- 
ple suggestion  of  Rienzi's.  He  lifted  his  eyes  to  the 
Senator's  face,  and  saw  there  that  smile  which  he  had 
already,  bold  as  he  was,  learned  to  dread.  He  felt 
himself  fairly  sunk  in  the  pit  he  had  digged  for  an- 
other. There  was  that  in  the  Senator-Tribune's  brow 
that  told  him  to  refuse  was  to  declare  open  war,  and 
the  moment  was  not  ripe  for  that. 

"  Ye  accede,"  said  Rienzi ;  "  ye  have  done  well." 

The  Senator  clapped  his  hands — his  guard  appeared. 

"  Summon  the  head  constables  of  the  soldiery." 

The  brothers  still  remained  dumb. 

*  See  the  anonymous  biographer,  lib.  ii.  cap.  19. 


556  RIENZI 

The  constables  entered. 

"  My  friends,"  said  Rienzi,  "  Messere  Brettone  and 
Messere  Arimbaldo  have  my  directions  to  divide 
amongst  your  force  a  thousand  florins.  This  evening 
we  encamp  beneath  Palestrina." 

The  constables  withdrew  in  visible  surprise.  Rienzi 
gazed  a  moment  on  the  brothers,  chuckling  within 
himself — for  his  sarcastic  humour  enjoyed  his  triumph. 
"  You  lament  not  your  devotion,  my  friends! " 

"  No,"  said  Brettone,  rousing  himself ;  "  the  sum  but 
trivially  swells  our  debt." 

"  Frankly  said — your  hands  once  more  ! — the  good 
people  of  Tivoli  expect  me  in  the  Piazza — they  re- 
quire some  admonitions.  Adieu  till  noon." 

When  the  door  closed  on  Rienzi,  Brettone  struck 
the  handle  of  his  sword  fiercely — "  The  Roman  laughs 
at  us,"  said  he.  "  But  let  Walter  de  Montreal  once 
appear  in  Rome,  and  the  proud  jester  shall  pay  us 
dearly  for.  this." 

"  Hush !  "  said  Arimbaldo,  "  walls  have  ears,  and 
that  imp  of  Satan,  young  Villani,  seems  to  me  ever 
at  our  heels !  " 

"  A  thousand  florins !  I  trust  his  heart  hath  as 
many  drops,"  growled  the  chafed  Brettone,  unheeding 
his  brother. 

The  soldiers  were  paid — the  army  marched — the 
eloquence  of  the  Senator  had  augmented  his  force  by 
volunteers  from  Tivoli,  and  wild  and  half-armed  peas- 
antry joined  his  standard  from  the  Campagna  and  the 
neighbouring  mountains. 

Palestrina  was  besieged :  Rienzi  continued  dexter- 
ously to  watch  the  brothers  of  Montreal.  Under  pre- 
text of  imparting  to  the  Italian  volunteers  the  ad- 
vantage of  their  military  science,  he  separated  them 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES        557 

from  their  mercenaries,  and  assigned  to  them  the  com- 
mand of  the  less  disciplined  Italians,  with  whom,  he 
believed,  they  could  not  venture  to  tamper.  He  him- 
self assumed  the  lead  of  the  Northmen — and,  despite 
themselves,  they  were  fascinated  by  his  artful,  yet  dig- 
nified affability,  and  the  personal  courage  he  displayed 
in  some  sallies  of  the  besieged  Barons.  But  as  the 
huntsmen  upon  all  the  subtlest  windings  of  their  prey, 
— so  pressed  the  relentless  and  speeding  Fates  upon 
Cola  di  Rienzi ! 


CHAPTER    VI 

THE  EVENTS  GATHER  TO  THE  END 

While  this  the  state  of  the  camp  of  the  besiegers, 
Luca  di  Savelli  and  Stefanello  Colonna  were  closeted 
with  a  stranger,  who  had  privately  entered  Palestrina 
on  the  night  before  the  Romans  pitched  their  tents  be- 
neath its  walls.  This  visitor,  who  might  have  some- 
what passed  his  fortieth  year,  yet  retained,  scarcely 
diminished,  the  uncommon  beauty  of  form  and  coun- 
tenance for  which  his  youth  had  been  remarkable. 
But  it  was  no  longer  that  character  of  beauty  which 
has  been  described  in  his  first  introduction  to  the 
reader.  It  was  no  longer  the  almost  woman  delicacy 
of  feature  and  complexion,  or  the  highborn  polish, 
and  graceful  suavity  of  manner,  which  distinguished 
Walter  de  Montreal :  a  life  of  vicissitude  and  war  had 
at  length  done  its  work.  His  bearing  was  now  abrupt 
and  imperious,  as  that  of  one  accustomed  to  rule  wild 
spirits,  and  he  had  exchanged  the  grace  of  persuasion 
for  the  sternness  of  command.  His  athletic  form  had 
grown  more  spare  and  sinewy,  and  instead  of  the  brow 


558  RIENZI 

half  shaded  by  fair  and  clustering  curls,  his  forehead, 
though  yet  but  slightly  wrinkled,  was  completely  bald 
at  the  temples ;  and  by  its  unwonted  height,  increased 
the  dignity  and  manliness  of  his  aspect.  The  bloom 
of  his  complexion  was  faded,  less  by  outward  exposure 
than  inward  thought,  into  a  bronzed  and  settled  pale- 
ness ;  and  his  features  seemed  more  marked  and  prom- 
inent, as  the  flesh  had  somewhat  sunk  from  the 

• 

contour  of  the  cheek.  Yet  the  change  suited  the 
change  of  age  and  circumstance ;  and  if  the  Provengal 
now  less  realized  the  idea  of  the  brave  and  fair  knight- 
errant,  he  but  looked  the  more  what  the  knight-errant 
had  become — the  sagacious  counsellor  and  the  mighty 
leader. 

"  You  must  be  aware,"  said  Montreal,  continuing 
a  discourse  which  appeared  to  have  made  great  im- 
pression on  his  companions,  "  that  in  this  contest  be- 
tween yourselves  and  the  Senator,  I  alone  hold  the 
balance.  Rienzi  is  utterly  in  my  power — my  brothers 
the  leaders  of  his  army ;  myself,  his  creditor.  It  rests 
with  me  to  secure  him  on  the  throne,  or  to  send  him 
to  the  scaffold.  I  have  but  to  give  the  order,  and  the 
Grand  Company  enter  Rome ;  but  without  their  agen- 
cy methinks  if  you  keep  faith  with  me,  our  purpose 
can  be  effected." 

"  In  the  meanwhile,  Palestrina  is  besieged  by  your 
brothers  !  "  said  Stefanello,  sharply. 

"  But  they  have  my  orders  to  waste  their  time  before 
its  walls.  Do  you  not  see,  that  by  this  very  siege, 
fruitless,  as,  if  I  will,  it  shall  be,  Rienzi  loses  fame 
abroad,  and  popularity  in  Rome." 

"  Sir  Knight,"  said  Luca  di  Savelli,  "  you  speak  as 
a  man  versed  in  the  profound  policy  of  the  times ;  and 
under  all  the  circumstances  which  menace  us,  your 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES        559 

proposal  seems  but  fitting  and  reasonable.  On  the 
one  hand,  you  undertake  to  restore  us  and  the  other 
Barons  to  Rome ;  and  to  give  Rienzi  to  the  Stair- 
case of  the  Lion " 

"  Not  so,  not  so,"  replied  Montreal  quickly.  "  I 
will  consent  either  so  to  subdue  and  cripple  his  power, 
as  to  render  him  a  puppet  in  our  hands,  a  mere  shadow 
of  authority — or,  if  his  proud  spirit  chafe  at  its  cage, 
to  give  it  once  more  liberty  amongst  the  wilds  of 
Germany.  I  would  fetter  or  banish  him,  but  not  de- 
stroy ;  unless "  (added  Montreal,  after  a  moment's 
pause)  "  fate  absolutely  drives  us  to  it.  Power  should 
not  demand  victims ;  but  to  secure  it,  victims  may  be 
necessary." 

"  I  understand  your  refinements,"  said  Luca  di  Sa- 
velli,  with  his  icy  smile,  "  and  am  satisfied.  The  Bar- 
ons once  restored,  our  palaces  once  more  manned,  and 
I  am  willing  to  take  the  chance  of  the  Senator's 
longevity.  This  service  you  promise  to  effect?" 

"  I  do." 

"  And,  in  return,  you  demand  our  assent  to  your 
enjoying  the  rank  of  Podesta  for  five  years?  " 

"  You  say  right." 

"•I,  for  one,  accede  to  the  terms,"  said  the  Savelli : 
"  there  is  my  hand ;  I  am  wearied  of  these  brawls,  even 
amongst  ourselves,  and  think  that  a  Foreign  Ruler 
may  best  enforce  order ;  the  more  especially,  if  like 
you,  Sir  Knight,  one  whose  birth  and  renown  are  such 
as  to  make  him  comprehend  the  difference  between 
Barons  and  Plebeians." 

"  For  my  part,"  said  Stefanello,  "  I  feel  that  we  have 
but  a  choice  of  evils — I  like  not  a  foreign  Podesta; 
but  I  like  a  plebeian  Senator  still  less ; — there  too  is 
my  hand,  Sir  Knight." 


560  RIENZI 

"  Noble  Signers,"  said  Montreal,  after  a  short  pause, 
and  turning  his  piercing  gaze  from  one  to  the  other 
with  great  deliberation,  "  our  compact  is  sealed ;  one 
word  by  way  of  codicil.  Walter  de  Montreal  is  no 
Count  Pepin  of  Minorbino !  Once  before,  little  dream- 
ing, I  own,  that  the  victory  would  be  so  facile,  I  in- 
trusted your  cause  and  mine  to  a  deputy ;  your  cause 
he  promoted,  mine  he  lost.  He  drove  out  the  Tribune, 
and  then  suffered  the  Barons  to  banish  himself.  This 
time  I  see  to  my  own  affairs ;  and,  mark  you,  I  have 
learned  in  the  Grand  Company  one  lesson ;  viz.  never 
to  pardon  spy  or  deserter,  of  whatever  rank.  Your 
forgiveness  for  the  hint.  Let  us  change  the  theme. 
So  ye  detain  in  your  fortress  my  old  friend  the  Baron 
di  Castello?" 

"  Ay,"  said  Luca  di  Savelli ;  for  Stefanello,  stung 
by  Montreal's  threat,  which  he  dared  not  openly  re- 
sent, preserved  a  sullen  silence ;  "  Ay,  he  is  one  noble 
the  less  to  the  Senator's  council." 

"  You  act  wisely.  I  know  his  views  and  temper ;  at 
present  dangerous  to  our  interests.  Yet  use  him  well, 
I  entreat  you ;  he  may  hereafter  serve  us.  And  now, 
my  Lords,  my  eyes  are  weary,  suffer  me  to  retire. 
Pleasant  dreams  of  the  New  Revolution  to  us  all  ?  " 

"  By  your  leave,  noble  Montreal,  we  will  attend  you 
to  your  couch,"  said  Luca  di  Savelli. 

"  By  my  troth,  and  ye  shall  not.  I  am  no  Tribune 
to  have  great  Signors  for  my  pages ;  but  a  plain  gen- 
tleman, and  a  hardy  soldier :  your  attendants  will  con- 
duct me  to  whatever  chamber  your  hospitality  assigns 
to  one  who  could  sleep  soundly  beneath  the  rudest 
hedge  under  your  open  skies." 

Savelli,  however,  insisted  on  conducting  the  Po- 
desta  that  was  to  be.  to  his  apartment.  He  then  re- 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES        561 

turned  to  Stefanello,  whom  he  found  pacing  the  saloon 
with  long  and  disordered  strides. 

"  What  have  we  done,  Savelli  ?  "  said  he  quickly ; 
"  sold  our  city  to  a  barbarian !  " 

"  Sold ! "  said  Savelli ;  "  to  my  mind  it  is  the  other 
part  of  the  contract  in  which  we  have  played  our  share. 
We  have  bought,  Colonna,  not  sold — bought  our  lives 
from  yon  army ;  bought  our  power,  our  fortunes,  our 
castles,  from  the  Demagogue  Senator ;  bought  what 
is  better  than  all,  triumph  and  revenge.  Tush,  Colon- 
na, see  you  not  that  if  we  had  balked  this  great  war- 
rior, we  had  perished?  Leagued  with  the  Senator, 
the  Grand  Company  would  have  marched  to  Rome ; 
and,  whether  Montreal  assisted  or  murdered  Rienzi, 
(for  methinks  he  is  a  Romulus,  who  would  brook  no 
Remus)  we  had  equally  been  undone.  Now,  we  have 
made  our  own  terms,  and  our  shares  are  equal.  Nay, 
the  first  steps  to  be  taken  are  in  our  favour.  Rienzi 
is  to  be  snared,  and  we  are  to  enter  Rome." 

"  And  then  the  Provengal  is  to  be  Despot  of  the 
city." 

"  Podesta,  if  you  please.  Podestas  who  offend  the 
people  are  often  banished,  and  sometimes  stoned — 
Podestas  who  insult  the  nobles  are  often  stilettoed, 
and  sometimes  poisoned,"  said  Savelli.  "  '  Sufficient 
for  the  day  is  the  evil  thereof.'  Meanwhile,  say  noth- 
ing to  the  bear,  Orsini.  Such  men  mar  all  wisdom. 
Come,  cheer  thee,  Stefanello."  • 

"  Luca  di  Savelli,  you  have  not  such  a  stake  in  Rome 
as  I  have,"  said  the  young  Lord,  haughtily ;  "  no  Po- 
desta can  take  from  you  the  rank  of  the  first  Signor 
of  the  Italian  metropolis !  " 

"  An  you  had  said  so  to  the  Orsini,  there  would 
have  been  drawing  of  swords,"  said  Savelli.  "  But 
36 


562  RIENZI 

cheer  thee,  I  say;  is  not  our  first  care  to  destroy 
Rienzi,  and  then,  between  the  death  of  one  foe  and 
the  rise  of  another,  are  there  not  such  preventives  as 
Ezzelino  da  Romano  has  taught  to  wary  men  ?  Cheer 
thee,  I  say ;  and,  next  year,  if  we  but  hold  together, 
Stefanello  Colonna  and  Luca  di  Savelli  will  be  joint 
Senators  of  Rome,  and  these  great  men  food  for 
worms !  " 

While  thus  conferred  the  Barons,  Montreal,  ere  he 
retired  to  rest,  stood  gazing  from  the  open  lattice  of 
his  chamber  over  the  landscape  below,  which  slept  in 
the  autumnal  moonlight,  while  at  a  distance  gleamed, 
pale  and  steady,  the  lights  round  the  encampment  of 
the  besiegers. 

"  Wide  plains  and  broad  valleys,"  thought  the  war- 
rior, "  soon  shall  ye  repose  in  peace  beneath  a  new 
sway,  against  which  no  petty  tyrant  shall  dare  rebel. 
And  ye,  white  walls  of  canvas,  even  while  I  gaze — ye 
admonish  me  how  realms  are  won.  Even  as,  of  old, 
from  the  Nomad  tents  was  built  up  the  stately  Baby- 
lon,* that  '  was  not  till  the  Assyrian  founded  it  for 
them  that  dwell  in  the  wilderness ; '  so  by  the  new 
Ishmaelites  of  Europe  shall  a  race,  undreamt  of  now, 
be  founded ;  and  the  camp  of  yesterday,  be  the  city  of 
to-morrow.  Verily,  when,  for  one  soft  offence,  the 
Pontiff  thrust  me  from  the  bosom  of  the  Church,  little 
guessed  he  what  enemy  he  raised  to  Rome  !  How  sol- 
emn is  the  night ! — how  still  the  heavens  and  earth ! — 
the  very  stars  are  as  hushed,  as  if  intent  on  the  events 
that  are  to  pass  below!  So  solemn  and  so  still  feels 
mine  own  spirit,  and  an  awe  unknown  till  now  warns 
me  that  I  approach  the  crisis  of  my  daring  fate ! " 

*  Isaiah  c.  xxii. 


BOOK   X 

THE  LION  OF  BASALT 

"  Ora  voglio  contare  la  morte  del  Tribune." — Vit.  di  Cola  di 
Riensi,  lib.  ii.  cap.  24. 

"  Now  will  I  narrate  the  death  of  the  Tribune." — Life  of  Cola 
di  Rienzi. 

CHAPTER    I 

THE    CONJUNCTION    OF    HOSTILE    PLANETS    IN    THE 
HOUSE    OF    DEATH 

On  the  fourth  day  of  the  siege,  and  after  beating 
back  to  those  almost  impregnable  walls  the  soldiery 
of  the  Barons,  headed  by  the  Prince  of  the  Orsini, 
the  Senator  returned  to  his  tent,  where  despatches  from 
Rome  awaited  him.  He  ran  his  eye  hastily  over  them, 
till  he  came  to  the  last ;  yet  each  contained  news  that 
might  have  longer  delayed  the  eye  of  a  man  less  in- 
ured to  danger.  From  one  he  learned  that  Albornoz, 
whose  blessing  had  confirmed  to  him  the  rank  of  Sen- 
ator, had  received  with  special  favour  the  messengers 
of  the  Orsini  and  Colonna.  He  knew  that  the  Car- 
dinal, whose  views  connected  him  with  the  Roman 
Patricians,  desired  his  downfall ;  but  he  feared  not  Al- 
bornoz ;  perhaps  in  his  secret  heart  he  wished  that 
any  open  aggression  from  the  Pontiff's  Legate  might 
throw  him  wholly  on  the  people. 

He  learned  further,  that,  short  as  had  been  his  ab- 

563 


564  RIENZI 

sence,  Pandulfo  di  Guido  had  twice  addressed  the 
populace,  not  in  favour  of  the  Senator,  but  in  artful 
regrets  of  the  loss  to  the  trade  of  Rome  in  the  ab- 
sence of  her  wealthiest  nobles. 

"  For  this,  then,  he  has  deserted  me,"  said  Rienzi 
to  himself.  "  Let  him  beware  !  " 

The  tidings  contained  in  the  next,  touched  him 
home :  Walter  de  Montreal  had  openly  arrived  in 
Rome.  The  grasping  and  lawless  bandit,  whose  rapine 
filled  with  a  robber's  booty  every  bank  in  Europe — 
whose  Company  was  the  army  of  a  King — whose  am- 
bition, vast,  unprincipled,  and  profound,  he  so  well 
knew — whose  brothers  were  in  his  camp — their  trea- 
son already  more  than  suspected ; — Walter  de  Mon- 
treal was  in  Rome! 

The  Senator  remained  perfectly  aghast  at  this  new 
peril ;  and  then  said,  setting  his  teeth  as  in  a  vice, 

"  Wild  tiger,  thou  art  in  the  Lion's  den ! "  Then 
pausing,  he  broke  out  again,  "  One  false  step,  Walter 
de  Montreal,  and  all  the  mailed  hands  of  the  Grand 
Company  shall  not  pluck  thee  from  the  abyss!  But 
what  can  I  do?  Return  to  Rome — the  plans  of  Mon- 
treal unpenetrated — no  accusation  against  him!  On 
what  pretence  can  I  with  honour  raise  the  siege?  To 
leave  Palestrina,  is  to  give  a  triumph  to  the  Barons 
— to  abandon  Adrian,  to  degrade  my  cause.  Yet,  while 
away  from  Rome,  every  hour  breeds  treason  and  dan- 
ger. Pandulfo,  Albornoz,  Montreal — all  are  at  work 
against  me.  A  keen  and  trusty  spy,  now; — ha,  well 
thought  of— Villani ! — What,  ho — Angelo  Villani !  " 

The  young  chamberlain  appeared. 

"  I  think,"  said  Rienzi,  "  to  have  often  heard,  that 
thou  art  an  orphan  ?  " 

"  True,  my  Lord  ;  the  old  Augustine  nun  who  reared 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES        565 

my  boyhood,  has  told  me  again  and  again  that  my 
parents  are  dead.  Both  noble,  my  Lord ;  but  I  am 
the  child  of  shame.  And  I  say  it  often,  and  think  of 
it  ever,  in  order  to  make  Angelo  Villani  remember 
that  he  has  a  name  to  win." 

"  Young  man,  serve  me  as  you  have  served,  and 
if  I  live  you  shall  have  no  need  to  call  yourself  an 
orphan.  Mark  me!  I  want  a  friend — the  Senator  of 
Rome  wants  a  friend — only  one  friend — gentle  Heav- 
en !  only  one  !  " 

Angelo  sank  on  his  knee,  and  kissed  the  mantle  of 
his  Lord. 

"  Say  a  follower.  I  am  too  mean  to  be  Rienzi's 
friend." 

"  Too  mean ! — go  to ! — there  is  nothing  mean  be- 
fore God,  unless  it  be  a  base  soul  under  high  titles. 
With  me,  boy,  there  is  but  one  nobility,  and  Nature 
signs  its  charter.  Listen :  thou  hearest  daily  of  Walter 
de  Montreal,  brother  to  these  Provengals — great  cap- 
tain of  great  robbers  ?  " 

"  Ay,  and  I  have  seen  him,  my  Lord." 

"  Well,  then,  he  is  in  Rome.  Some  daring  thought 
— some  well-supported  and  deep-schemed  villany, 
could  alone  make  that  bandit  venture  openly  into  an 
Italian  city,  whose  territories  he  ravaged  by  fire  and 
sword  a  few  months  back.  But  his  brothers  have  lent 
me  money — assisted  my  return ; — for  their  own  ends, 
it  is  true :  but  the  seeming  obligation  gives  them  real 
power.  These  Northern  swordsmen  would  cut  my 
throat  if  the  Great  Captain  bade  them.  He  counts 
on  my  supposed  weakness.  I  know  him  of  old.  I 
suspect — nay  I  read,  his  projects ;  but  I  cannot  prove 
them.  Without  proof,  I  cannot  desert  Palestrina  in 
order  to  accuse  and  seize  him.  Thou  art  shrewd, 


$66  RIENZI 

thoughtful,  acute  ; — couldst  them  go  to  Rome  ? — watch 
day  and  night  his  movements — see  if  he  receive  mes- 
sengers from  Albornoz  or  the  Barons — if  he  confer 
with  Pandulfo  di  Guido ; — watch  his  lodgment,  I  say, 
night  and  day.  He  affects  no  concealment :  your  task 
will  be  less  difficult  than  it  seems.  Apprise  the  Signora 
of  all  you  learn.  Give  me  your  news  daily.  Will  you 
undertake  this  mission?" 

"  I  will,  my  Lord." 

"  To  horse,  then,  quick ! — and  mind — save  the  wife 
of  my  bosom,  I  have  no  confidant  in  Rome." 


CHAPTER    II 

MONTREAL    AT    ROME. HIS    RECEPTION    OF   ANGELO 

VILLANI 

The  danger  that  threatened  Rienzi  by  the  arrival 
of  Montreal  was  indeed  formidable.  The  Knight  of 
St.  John,  having  marched  his  army  into  Lombardy, 
had  placed  it  at  the  disposal  of  the  Venetian  State  in 
its  war  with  the  Archbishop  of  Milan.  For  this  service 
he  received  an  immense  sum :  while  he  provided  win- 
ter quarters  for  his  troop,  for  whom  he  proposed  am- 
ple work  in  the  ensuing  spring.  Leaving  Palestrina 
secretly  and  in  disguise,  with  but  a  slender  train,  which 
met  him  at  Tivoli,  Montreal  repaired  to  Rome.  His 
ostensible  object  was,  partly  to  congratulate  the  Sen- 
ator on  his  return,  partly  to  receive  the  monies  lent 
to  Rienzi  by  his  brother. 

His  secret  object  we  have  partly  seen ;  but  not  con- 
tented with  the  support  of  the  Barons,  he  trusted,  by 
the  corrupting  means  of  his  enormous  wealth,  to  form 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES        567 

a  third  party  in  support  of  his  own  ulterior  designs. 
Wealth,  indeed,  in  that  age  and  in  that  land,  was 
scarcely  less  the  purchaser  of  diadems  than  it  had  been 
in  the  later  days  of  the  Roman  Empire.  And  in  many 
a  city  torn  by  hereditary  feuds,  the  hatred  of  faction 
rose  to  that  extent,  that  a  foreign  tyrant,  willing  and 
able  to  expel  one  party,  might  obtain  at  least  the  tem- 
porary submission  of  the  other.  His  after-success  was 
greatly  in  proportion  to  his  power  to  maintain  his  state 
by  a  force  which  was  independent  of  the  citizens,  and 
by  a  treasury  which  did  not  require  the  odious  re- 
cruit of  taxes.  But  more  avaricious  than  ambitious, 
more  cruel  than  firm,  it  was  by  griping  exaction,  or 
unnecessary  bloodshed,  that  such  usurpers  usually 
fell. 

Montreal,  who  had  scanned  the  frequent  revolutions 
of  the  time  with  a  calm,  and  investigating  eye,  trusted 
that  he  should  be  enabled  to  avoid  both  these  errors : 
and,  as  the  reader  has  already  seen,  he  had  formed 
the  profound  and  sagacious  project  of  consolidating 
his  usurpation  by  an  utterly  new  race  of  nobles,  who, 
serving  him  by  the  feudal  tenure  of  the  North,  and 
ever  ready  to  protect  him,  because  in  so  doing  they 
protected  their  own  interests,  should  assist  to  erect, 
not  the  rotten  and  unsupported  fabric  of  a  single  tyr- 
anny, but  the  strong  fortress  of  a  new,  hardy,  and  com- 
pact Aristocratic  State.  Thus  had  the  great  dynasties 
of  the  North  been  founded ;  in  which  a  King,  though 
seemingly  curbed  by  the  Barons,  was  in  reality  sup- 
ported by  a  common  interest,  whether  against  a  sub- 
dued population  or  a  foreign  invasion. 

Such  were  the  vast  schemes — extending  into  yet 
wider  fields  of  glory  and  conquest,  bounded  only  by 
the  Alps — with  which  the  Captain  of  the  Grand  Com- 


568  RIENZI 

pany  beheld  the  columns  and  arches  of  the  Seven- 
hilled  City. 

No  fear  disturbed  the  long  current  of  his  thoughts. 
His  brothers  were  the  leaders  of  Rienzi's  hireling  army 
— that  army  were  his  creatures.  Over  Rienzi  himself 
he  assumed  the  right  of  a  creditor.  Thus  against  one 
party  he  deemed  himself  secure.  For  the  friends  of 
the  Pope,  he  had  supported  himself  with  private, 
though  cautious  letters  from  Albornoz,  who  desired 
only  to  make  use  of  him  for  the  return  of  the  Roman 
Barons ;  and  with  the  heads  of  the  latter  we  have  al- 
ready witnessed  his  negotiations.  Thus  was  he  fitted, 
as  he  thought,  to  examine,  to  tamper  with  all  parties, 
and  to  select  from  each  the  materials  necessary  for  his 
own  objects. 

The  open  appearance  of  Montreal  excited  in  Rome 
no  inconsiderable  sensation.  The  friends  of  the  Bar- 
ons gave  out  that  Rienzi  was  in  league  with  the  Grand 
Company;  and  that  he  was  to  sell  the  imperial  city 
to  the  plunder  and  pillage  of  Barbarian  robbers.  The 
effrontery  with  which  Montreal  (against  whom,  more 
than  once,  the  Pontiff  had  thundered  his  bulls)  ap- 
peared in  the  Metropolitan  City  of  the  Church,  was 
made  yet  more  insolent  by  the  recollection  of  that 
stern  justice  which  had  led  the  Tribune  to  declare  open 
war  against  all  the  robbers  of  Italy :  and  this  audacity 
was  linked  with  the  obvious  reflection,  that  the  brothers 
of  the  bold  Proven9al  were  the  instruments  of  Rienzi's 
return.  So  quickly  spread  suspicion  through  the  city, 
that  Montreal's  presence  alone  would  in  a  few  weeks 
have  sufficed  to  ruin  the  Senator.  Meanwhile,  the 
natural  boldness  of  Montreal  silenced  every  whisper 
of  prudence ;  and,  blinded  by  the  dazzle  of  his  hopes, 
the  Knight  of  St.  John,  as  if  to  give  double  impor- 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES        569 

tance  to  his  coming,  took  up  his  residence  in  a  sump- 
tuous palace,  and  his  retinue  rivalled,  in  the  splendour 
of  garb  and  pomp,  the  display  of  Rienzi  himself  in  his 
earlier  and  more  brilliant  power. 

Amidst  the  growing  excitement,  Angelo  Villani  ar- 
rived at  Rome.  The  character  of  this  young  man  had 
been  formed  by  his  peculiar  circumstances.  He  pos- 
sessed qualities  which  often  mark  the  Illegitimate  as 
with  a  common  stamp.  He  was  insolent — like  most 
of  those  who  hold  a  doubtful  rank ;  and  while  ashamed 
of  his  bastardy,  was  arrogant  of  the  supposed  nobility 
of  his  unknown  parentage.  The  universal  ferment  and 
agitation  of  Italy  at  that  day  rendered  ambition  the 
most  common  of  all  the  passions,  and  thus  ambition, 
in  all  its  many  shades  "and  varieties,  forces  itself  into 
our  delineations  of  character  in  this  history.  Though 
not  for  Angelo  Villani  were  the  dreams  of  the  more 
lofty  and  generous  order  of  that  sublime  infirmity,  he 
was  strongly  incited  by  the  desire  and  resolve  to  rise. 
He  had  warm  affections  and  grateful  impulses ;  and 
his  fidelity  to  his  patron  had  been  carried  to  a  virtue : 
but  from  his  irregulated  and  desultory  education,  and 
the  reckless  profligacy  of  those  with  whom,  in  ante- 
chambers and  guard-rooms,  much  of  his  youth  had 
been  passed,  he  had  neither  high  principles  nor  an  en- 
lightened honour.  Like  most  Italians,  cunning  and 
shrewd,  he  scrupled  not  at  any  deceit  that  served  a 
purpose  or  a  friend.  His  strong  attachment  to  Rienzi 
had  been  unconsciously  increased  by  the  gratification 
of  pride  and  vanity,  flattered  by  the  favour  of  so  cele- 
brated a  man.  Both  self-interest  and  attachment  urged 
him  to  every  effort  to  promote  the  views  and  safety 
of  one  at  once  his  benefactor  and  patron ;  and  on 
undertaking  his  present  mission,  his  only  thought  was 


570  RIENZI 

to  fulfil  it  with  the  most  complete  success.  Far  more 
brave  and  daring  than  was  common  with  the  Italians, 
something  of  the  hardihood  of  an  Ultra-Montane  race 
gave  nerve  and  vigour  to  his  craft ;  and  from  what 
his  art  suggested  his  courage  never  shrunk. 

When  Rienzi  had  first  detailed  to  him  the  objects 
of  his  present  task,  he  instantly  called  to  mind  his 
adventure  with  the  tall  soldier  in  the  crowd  at  Avi- 
gnon. "  If  ever  thou  wantest  a  friend,  seek  him  in 
Walter  de  Montreal,"  were  words  that  had  often  rung 
in  his  ear,  and  they  now  recurred  to  him  with  prophetic 
distinctness.  He  had  no  doubt  that  it  was  Montreal 
himself  whom  he  had  seen.  Why  the  Great  Captain 
should  have  taken  this  interest  in  him,  Angelo  little 
cared  to  conjecture.  Most  probably  it  was  but  a  crafty 
pretence — one  of  the  common  means  by  which  the 
Chief  of  the  Grand  Company  attracted  to  himself  the 
youths  of  Italy,  as  well  as  the  warriors  of  the  North. 
He  only  thought  now  how  he  could  turn  the  Knight's 
promise  to  account.  What  more  easy  than  to  present 
himself  to  Montreal — remind  him  of  the  words — enter 
his  service — and  thus  effectually  watch  his  conduct? 
The  office  of  spy  was  not  that  which  would  have 
pleased  every  mind,  but  it  shocked  not  the  fastidious- 
ness of  Angelo  Villani ;  and  the  fearful  hatred  with 
which  his  patron  had  often  spoken  of  the  avaricious 
and  barbarian  robber — the  scourge  of  his  native  land, 
— had  infected  the  young  man,  who  had  much  of  the 
arrogant  and  mock  patriotism  of  the  Romans,  with  a 
similar  sentiment.  More  vindictive  even  than  grate- 
ful, he  bore,  too,  a  secret  grudge  against  Montreal's 
brother,  whose  rough  address  had  often  wounded  his 
pride:  and,  above  all,  his  early  recollections  of  the 
fear  and  execration  in  which  Ursula  seemed  ever  to 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES        571 

hold  the  terrible  Fra  Moreale,  impressed  him  with  a 
vague  belief  of  some  ancient  wrong  to  himself  or  his 
race,  perpetrated  by  the  Provengal,  which  he  was  not 
ill-pleased  to  have  the  occasion  to  avenge.  In  truth, 
the  words  of  Ursula,  mystic  and  dark  as  they  were  in 
their  denunciation,  had  left  upon  Villani's  boyish  im- 
pressions an  unaccountable  feeling  of  antipathy  and 
hatred  to  the  man  it  was  now  his  object  to  betray. 
For  the  rest,  every  device  seemed  to  him  decorous 
and  justifiable,  so  that  it  saved  his  master,  served  his 
country,  and  advanced  himself. 

Montreal  was  alone  in  his  chamber1  when  it  was  an- 
nounced to  him  that  a  young  Italian  craved  an  audi- 
ence. Professionally  open  to  access,  he  forthwith  gave 
admission  to  the  applicant. 

The  Knight  of  St.  John  instantly  recognised  the 
page  he  had  encountered  at  Avignon ;  and  when  An- 
gelo  Villani  said,  with  easy  boldness,  "  I  have  come 
to  remind  Sir  Walter  de  Montreal  of  a  promise " 

The  Knight  interrupted  him  with  cordial  frankness 
— "  Thou  needest  not — I  remember  it.  Dost  thou 
now  require  my  friendship  ?  " 

"  I  do,  noble  Signor !  "  answered  Angelo ;  "  I  know 
not  where  else  to  seek  a  patron." 

"  Canst  thou  read  and  write  ?     I  fear  me  not." 

"  I  have  been  taught  those  arts,"  replied  Villani. 

"  It  is  well.     Is  thy  birth  gentle  ?  " 

"  It  is." 

"  Better  still ;— thy  name  ?  " 

"  Angelo  Villani." 

"  I  take  thy  blue  eyes  and  low  broad  brow,"  said 
Montreal,  with  a  slight  sigh,  "  in  pledge  of  thy  truth. 
Henceforth,  Angelo  Villani,  thou  art  in  the  list  of  my 
secretaries.  Another  time  thou  shalt  tell  me  more  of 


572  RIENZI 

thyself.  Thy  service  dates  from  this  day.  For  the 
rest,  no  man  ever  wanted  wealth  who  served  Walter 
de  Montreal ;  nor  advancement,  if  he  served  him  faith- 
fully. My  closet,  through  yonder  door,  is  thy  waiting 
room.  Ask  for,  and  send  hither,  Lusignan  of  Lyons ; 
he  is  my  chief  scribe,  and  will  see  to  thy  comforts,  and 
instruct  thee  in  thy  business." 

Angelo  withdrew — Montreal's  eye  followed  him. 

"  A  strange  likeness !  "  said  he,  musingly  and  sadly ; 
"  my  heart  leaps  to  that  boy !  " 


CHAPTER    III 
MONTREAL'S  BANQUET 

Some  few  days  after  the  date  of  the  last  chapter, 
Rienzi  received  news  from  Rome,  which  seemed  to 
produce  in  him  a  joyous  and  elated  excitement.  His 
troops  still  lay  before  Palestrina,  and  still  the  banners 
of  the  Barons  waved  over  its  unconquered  walls.  In 
truth,  the  Italians  employed  half  their  time  in  brawls 
amongst  themselves ;  the  Velletritrani  had  feuds  with 
the  people  of  Tivoli,  and  the  Romans  were  still  afraid 
of  conquering  the  Barons  ; — "  The  hornet,"  said  they, 
"  stings  worse  after  he  is  dead ;  and  neither  an  Orsini, 
a  Savelli,  nor  a  Colonna,  was  ever  known  to  forgive." 

Again  and  again  had  the  captains  of  his  army  as- 
sured the  indignant  Senator  that  the  fortress  was  im- 
pregnable, and  that  time  and  money  were  idly  wasted 
upon  the  siege.  Rienzi  knew  better,  but  he  concealed 
his  thoughts. 

He  now  summoned  to  his  tent  the  brothers  of 
Provence,  and  announced  to  them  his  intention  of  re- 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES        573 

turning  instantly  to  Rome.  "  The  mercenaries  shall 
continue  the  siege  under  our  Lieutenant,  and  you,  with 
my  Roman  Legion,  shall  accompany  me.  Your 
brother,  Sir  Walter,  and  I,  both  want  your  presence; 
we  have  affairs  to  arrange  between  us.  After  a  few 
days  I  shall  raise  recruits  in  the  city,  and  return." 

This  was  what  the  brothers  desired ;  they  approved, 
with  evident  joy,  the  Senator's  proposition. 

Rienzi  next  sent  for  the  lieutenant  of  his  body-guard, 
the  same  Riccardo  Annibaldi  whom  the  reader  will 
remember  in  the  earlier  part  of  this  work,  as  the  an- 
tagonist of  Montreal's  lance.  This  young  man — one 
of  the  few  nobles  who  espoused  the  cause  of  the  Sen- 
ator— had  evinced  great  courage  and  military  ability, 
and  promised  fair  (should  Fate  spare  his  life  *)  to 
become  one  of  the  best  Captains  of  his  time. 

"  Dear  Annibaldi,"  said  Rienzi ;  "  at  length  I  can 
fulfil  the  project  on  which  we  have  privately  con- 
ferred. I  take  with  me  to  Rome  the  two  Provencal 
Captains — I  leave  you  chief  of  the  army.  Palestrina 
will  yield  now — eh ! — ha,  ha,  ha ! — Palestrina  will  yield 
now !  " 

"  By  my  right  hand,  I  think  so,  Senator,"  replied 
Annibaldi.  "  These  foreigners  have  hitherto  only 
stirred  up  quarrels  amongst  ourselves,  and  if  not  cow- 
ards are  certainly  traitors  !  " 

"  Hush,  hush,  hush !  Traitors !  The  learned  Arim- 
baldo,  the  brave  Brettone,  traitors !  Fie  on  it !  No, 
no ;  they  are  very  excellent,  honourable  men,  but  not 
lucky  in  the  camp ; — not  lucky  in  the  camp ; — better 
speed  to  them  in  the  city!  And  now  to  business." 

*  It  appears  that  this  was  the  same  Annibaldi  who  was 
afterwards  slain  in  an  affray: — Petrarch  lauds  his  valour  and 
laments  his  fate. 


574  RIENZI 

The  Senator  then  detailed  to  Annibaldi  the  plan  he 
himself  had  formed  for  taking  the  town,  and  the  mili- 
tary skill  of  Annibaldi  at  once  recognised  its  feasi- 
bility. 

With  his  Roman  troop  and  Montreal's  brothers,  one 
at  either  hand,  Rienzi  then  departed  to  Rome. 

That  night  Montreal  gave  a  banquet  to  Pandulfo  di 
Guido,  and  to  certain  of  the  principal  citizens,  whom 
one  by  one  he  had  already  sounded,  and  found  hollow 
at  heart  to  the  cause  of  the  Senator. 

Pandulfo  sate  at  the  right  hand  of  the  Knight  of 
St.  John,  and  Montreal  lavished  upon  him  the  most 
courteous  attentions. 

"  Pledge  me  in  this — it  is  from  the  Vale  of  Chiana, 
near  Monte  Pulciano,"  said  Montreal.  "  I  think  I 
have  heard  bookmen  say  (you  know,  Signer  Pandulfo, 
we  ought  all  to  be  bookmen  now!)  that  the  site  was 
renowned  of  old.  In  truth,  the  wine  hath  a  racy 
flavour." 

"  I  hear,"  said  Bruttini,  one  of  the  lesser  Barons, 
(a  stanch  friend  to  the  Colonna,)  "  that  in  this  respect 
the  innkeeper's  son  has  put  his  book-learning  to  some 
use:  he  knows  every  place  where  the  wine  grows 
richest." 

"  What !  the  Senator  is  turned  wine-bibber !  "  said 
Montreal,  quaffing  a  vast  goblet  full ;  "  that  must  un- 
fit him  for  business — 'tis  a  pity." 

"  Verily,  yes,"  said  Pandulfo ;  "  a  man  at  the  head 
of  a  state  should  be  temperate — I  never  drink  wine 
unmixed." 

"  Ah,"  whispered  Montreal,  "  if  your  calm  good 
sense  ruled  Rome,  then,  indeed,  the  metropolis  of 
Italy  might  taste  of  peace.  Signer  Vivaldi," — and  the 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES        575 

host  turned  towards  a  wealthy  draper, — "  these  dis- 
turbances are  bad  for  trade." 

"  Very,  very !  "  groaned  the  draper. 

"  The  Barons  are  your  best  customers,"  quoth  the 
minor  noble. 

"  Much,  much  !  "  said  the  draper. 

"  'Tis  a  pity  that  they  are  thus  roughly  expelled," 
said  Montreal,  in  a  melancholy  tone.  "  Would  it  not 
be  possible,  if  the  Senator  (/  drink  his  health)  were 
less  rash — less  zealous,  rather, — to  unite  free  institu- 
tions with  the  return  of  the  Barons  ? — such  should  be 
the  task  of  a  truly  wise  statesman." 

"  It  surely  might  be  possible,"  returned  Vivaldi ; 
"  the  Savelli  alone  spend  more  with  me  than  all  the 
rest  of  Rome." 

"  I  know  not  if  it  be  possible,"  said  Bruttini ;  "  but 
I  do  know  that  it  is  an  outrage  to  all  decorum  that 
an  innkeeper's  son  should  be  enabled  to  make  a  soli- 
tude of  the  palaces  of  Rome." 

"  It  certainly  seems  to  indicate  too  vulgar  a  desire 
of  mob  favour,"  said  Montreal.  "  However,  I  trust 
we  shall  harmonize  all  these  differences.  Rienzi,  per- 
haps,— nay,  doubtless,  means  well !  " 

"  I  would,"  said  Vivaldi,  who  had  received  his  cue, 
"  that  we  might  form  a  mixed  constitution — Plebeians 
and  Patricians,  each  in  their  separate  order." 

"  But,"  said  Montreal,  gravely,  "  so  new  an  experi- 
ment would  demand  great  physical  force." 

"  Why,  true ;  but  we  might  call  in  an  umpire — a  for- 
eigner who  had  no  interest  in  either  faction — who 
might  protect  the  new  Buono  Stato ;  a  Podesta,  as 
we  have  done  before — Brancaleone,  for  instance.  How 
well  and  wisely  he  ruled !  that  was  a  golden  age  for 
Rome.  A  Podesta  for  ever! — that's  my  theory." 


576  RIENZI 

"  You  need  not  seek  far  for  the  president  of  your 
council,"  said  Montreal,  smiling  at  Pandulfo ;  "  a  citi- 
zen at  once  popular,  well-born,  and  wealthy,  may  be 
found  at  my  right  hand." 

Pandulfo  hemmed,  and  coloured. 

Montreal  proceeded.  "  A  committee  of  trades  might 
furnish  an  honourable  employment  to  Signer  Vivaldi ; 
and  the  treatment  of  all  foreign  affairs — the  employ- 
ment of  armies,  &c.,  might  be  left  to  the  Barons,  with 
a  more  open  competition,  Signer  di  Bruttini,  to  the 
Barons  of  the  second  order  than  has  hitherto  been 
conceded  to  their  birth  and  importance.  Sirs,  will  you 
taste  the  Malvoisie  ?  " 

"  Still,"  said  Vivaldi,  after  a  pause — (Vivaldi  antici- 
pated at  least  the  supplying  with  cloth  the  whole  of  the 
Grand  Company) — "  still,  such  a  moderate  and  well- 
digested  constitution  would  never  be  acceded  to  by 
Rienzi." 

"  Why  should  it?  what  need  of  Rienzi?  "  exclaimed 
Bruttini.  "  Rienzi  may  take  another  trip  to  Bohemia." 

"  Gently,  gently,"  said  Montreal ;  "  I  do  not  despair. 
All  open  violence  against  the  Senator  would  strength- 
en his  power.  No,  no,  humble  him — admit  the  Bar- 
ons, and  then  insist  on  your  own  terms.  Between  the 
two  factions  you  might  then  establish  a  fitting  balance. 
And  in  order  to  keep  your  new  constitution  from  the 
encroachment  of  either  extreme,  there  are  warriors 
and  knights,  too,  who  for  a  certain  rank  in  the  great 
city  of  Rome  would  maintain  horse  and  foot  at  its 
service.  We  Ultra-Montanes  are  often  harshly  judged  ; 
we  are  wanderers  and  Ishmaelites,  solely  because  we 
have  no  honourable  place  of  rest.  Now,  if  I " 

"  Ay,  if  you,  noble  Montreal !  "  said  Vivaldi. 

The  company  remained  hushed  in  breathless  atten- 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES        577 

tion,  when  suddenly  there  was  heard — deep,  solemn, 
muffled, — the  great  bell  of  the  Capitol ! 

"  Hark !  "  said  Vivaldi,  "  the  bell :  it  tolls  for  execu- 
tion :  an  unwonted  hour !  " 

"  Sure,  the  Senator  has  not  returned ! "  exclaimed 
Pandulfo  di  Guido,  turning  pale. 

"  No,  no,"  quoth  Bruttini,  "  it  is  but  a  robber, 
caught  two  nights  ago  in  Romagna.  I  heard  that  he 
was  to  die  to-night." 

At  the  word  "  robber,"  Montreal  changed  counte- 
nance slightly.  The  wine  circulated — the  bell  contin- 
ued to  toll — its  suddenness  over,  it  ceased  to  alarm. 
Conversation  flowed  again. 

"  What  were  you  saying,  Sir  Knight  ? "  said  Vi- 
valdi. 

"  Why,  let  me  think  on't ; — oh,  speaking  of  the  ne- 
cessity of  supporting  a  new  state  by  force,  I  said  that 
if  I " 

"  Ah,  that  was  it !  "  quoth  Bruttini,  thumping  the 
table. 

"  If  I  were  summoned  to  your  aid — summoned,  mind 
ye,  and  absolved  by  the  Pope's  Legate  of  my  former 
sins — (they  weigh  heavily  on  me,  gentles) — I  would 
myself  guard  your  city  from  foreign  foe  and  civil 
disturbance,  with  my  gallant  swordsmen.  Not  a 
Roman  citizen  should  contribute  a  '  danaro '  to  the 
cost." 

"  Viva  Fra  Moreale!  "  cried  Bruttini ;  and  the  shout 
was  echoed  by  all  the  boon  companions. 

"  Enough  for  me,"  continued  Montreal,  "  to  expiate 
my  offences.  Ye  know,  gentlemen,  my  order  is  vowed 
to  God  and  the  Church — a  warrior  monk  am  I ! 
Enough  for  me  to  expiate  my  offences,  I  say,  in  the 
defence  of  the  Holy  City.  Yet  I,  too,  have  my  pri- 
37 


5/8  RIENZI 

vate  and  more  earthly  views, — who  is  above  them? 
I the  bell  changes  its  note !  " 

"  It  is  but  the  change  that  preludes  execution — the 
poor  robber  is  about  to  die !  " 

Montreal  crossed  himself,  and  resumed : — "  I  am  a 
knight  and  a  noble,"  said  he,  proudly  ;  "  the  profession 
I  have  followed  is  that  of  arms ;  but — I  will  not  dis- 
guise it — mine  equals  have  regarded  me  as  one  who 
has  stained  his  scutcheon  by  too  reckless  a  pursuit  of 
glory  and  of  gain.  I  wish  to  reconcile  myself  with 
my  order — to  purchase  a  new  name — to  vindicate  my- 
self to  the  Grand  Master  and  the  Pontiff.  I  have  had 
hints,  gentles, — hints,  that  I  might  best  promote  my 
interest  by  restoring  order  to  the  Papal  metropolis. 
The  Legate  Albornoz  (here  is  his  letter)  recommends 
me  to  keep  watch  upon  the  Senator." 

"  Surely,"  interrupted  Pandulfo,  "  I  hear  steps  be- 
low." 

"  The  mob  going  to  the  robber's  execution,"  said 
Bruttini ;  "  proceed,  Sir  Knight !  " 

"  And,"  continued  Montreal,  surveying  his  audi- 
ence before  he  proceeded  farther,  "  what  think  ye — 
(I  do  but  ask  your  opinion,  wiser  than  mine) — what 
think  ye,  as  a  fitting  precaution  against  too  arbitrary 
a  power  in  the  Senator — what  think  ye  of  the  re- 
turn of  the  Colonna,  and  the  bold  Barons  of  Pales- 
trina?" 

"  Here's  to  their  health !  "  cried  Vivaldi,  rising. 

As  by  a  sudden  impulse,  the  company  rose.  "  To 
the  health  of  the  besieged  Barons ! "  was  shouted 
aloud. 

"  Next,  what  if — (I  do  but  humbly  suggest) — what 
if  you  gave  the  Senator  a  colleague  ? — it  is  no  affront 
to  him.  It  was  but  as  yesterday  that  one  of  the  Colon- 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES        579 

na,  who  was  Senator,  received  a  colleague  in  Bertoldo 
Orsini." 

"  A  most  wise  precaution,"  cried  Vivaldi.  "  And 
where  a  colleague  like  Pandulfo  di  Guido  ?  " 

"Viva  Pandulfo  di  Guido!"  cried  the  guests,  and 
again  their  goblets  were  drained  to  the  bottom. 

"  And  if  in  this  I  can  assist  ye  by  fair  words  with  the 
Senator,  (ye  know  he  owes  me  monies — my  brothers 
have  served  him),  command  Walter  de  Montreal." 

"  And  if  fair  words  fail  ?  "  said  Vivaldi. 

"  The  Grand  Company — (heed  me,  ye  are  the  coun- 
cillors)— the  Grand  Company  is  accustomed  to  forced 
marches !  " 

"Viva  Fra  Moreale!"  cried  Bruttini  and  Vivaldi, 
simultaneously.  "  A  health  to  all,  my  friends,"  con- 
tinued Bruttini ;  "  a  health  to  the  Barons,  Rome's  old 
friends ;  to  Pandulfo  di  Guido,  the  Senator's  new  col- 
league ;  and  to  Fra  Moreale,  Rome's  new  Podesta." 

"  The  bell  has  ceased,"  said  Vivaldi,  putting  down 
his  goblet. 

"  Heaven  have  mercy  on  the  robber !  "  added  Brut- 
tini. 

Scarce  had  he  spoken,  ere  three  taps  were  heard 
at  the  door — the  guests  looked  at  each  other  in  dumb 
amaze. 

"  New  guests ! "  said  Montreal.  "  I  asked  some 
trusty  friends  to  join  us  this  evening.  By  my  faith 
they  are  welcome !  Enter !  " 

The  door  opened  slowly ;  three  by  three  entered,  in 
complete  armour,  the  guards  of  the  Senator.  On  they 
marched,  regular  and  speechless.  They  surrounded 
the  festive  board — they  filled  the  spacious  hall,  and  the 
lights  of  the  banquet  were  reflected  upon  their  corse- 
lets as  on  a  wall  of  steel. 


580  RIENZI 

Not  a  syllable  was  uttered  by  the  feasters,  they  were 
as  if  turned  to  stone.  Presently  the  guards  gave  way, 
and  Rienzi  himself  appeared.  He  approached  the 
table,  and  folding  his  arms,  turned  his  gaze  deliber- 
ately from  guest  to  guest,  till  at  last,  his  eyes  rested 
on  Montreal,  who  had  also  risen,  and  who  alone  of 
the  party  had  recovered  the  amaze  of  the  moment. 

And,  there,  as  these  two  men,  each  so  celebrated, 
so  proud,  able,  and  ambitious,  stood  front  to  front — 
it  was  literally  as  if  the  rival  Spirits  of  Force  and  In- 
tellect, Order  and  Strife,  of  the  Falchion  and  the 
Fasces — the  Antagonist  Principles  by  which  empires 
are  ruled  and  empires  overthrown,  had  met  together, 
incarnate  and  opposed.  They  stood,  both  silent, — as 
if  fascinated  by  each  other's  gaze, — loftier  in  stature, 
and  nobler  in  presence  than  all  around. 

Montreal  spoke  first,  and  with  a  forced  smile. 

"  Senator  of  Rome ! — dare  I  believe  that  my  poor 
banquet  tempts  thee,  and  may  I  trust  that  these  armed 
men  are  a  graceful  compliment  to  one  to  whom  arms 
have  been  a  pastime  ?  " 

Rienzi  answered  not,  but  waved  his  hand  to  his 
guards.  Montreal  was  seized  on  the  instant.  Again 
he  surveyed  the  guests — as  a  bird  from  the  rattle- 
snake,— shrunk  Pandulfo  di  Guido,  trembling,  mo- 
tionless, aghast,  from  the  glittering  eye  of  the  Sen- 
ator. Slowly  Rienzi  raised  his  fatal  hand  towards 
the  unhappy  citizen — Pandulfo  saw — felt  his  doom, 
— shrieked, — and  fell  senseless  in  the  arms  of  the 
soldiers. 

One  other  and  rapid  glance  cast  the  Senator  round 
the  board,  and  then,  with  a  disdainful  smile,  as  if 
anxious  for  no  meaner  prey,  turned  away.  Not  a 
breath  had  hitherto  passed  his  lips — all  had  been  dumb 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES        581 

show — and  his  grim  silence  had  imparted  a  more 
freezing  terror  to  his  unguessed-for  apparition.  Only, 
when  he  reached  the  door,  he  turned  back,  gazed  upon 
the  Knight  of  St.  John's  bold  and  undaunted  face,  and 
said,  almost  in  a  whisper,  "  Walter  de  Montreal ! — you 
heard  the  death-knell !  " 


CHAPTER   IV 

THE   SENTENCE    OF   WALTER    DE   MONTREAL 

In  silence  the  Captain  of  the  Grand  Company  was 
borne  to  the  prison  of  the  Capitol.  In  the  same  build- 
ing lodged  the  rivals  for  the  government  of  Rome ; 
the  one  occupied  the  prison,  the  other  the  palace.  The 
guards  forebore  the  ceremony  of  fetters,  and  leaving 
a  lamp  on  the  table,  Montreal  perceived  he  was  not 
alone, — his  brothers  had  preceded  him. 

"  We  are  happily  met,"  said  the  Knight  of  St.  John ; 
"  we  have  passed  together  pleasanter  nights  than  this 
is  likely  to  be." 

"Can  you  jest,  Walter?"  said  Arimbaldo,  half- 
weeping.  "  Know  you  not  that  our  doom  is  fixed  ? 
Death  scowls  upon  us." 

"  Death !  "  repeated  Montreal,  and  for  the  first  time 
his  countenance  changed ;  perhaps  for  the  first  time  in 
his  life  he  felt  the  thrill  and  agony  of  fear. 

"  Death  !  "  he  repeated  again.  "  Impossible  !  He 
dare  not,  Brettone  ;  the  soldiers,  the  Northmen  ! — they 
will  mutiny,  they  will  pluck  us  back  from  the  grasp  of 
the  headsman !  " 

"  Cast  from  you  so  vain  a  hope,"  said  Brettone  sul- 
lenly ;  "  the  soldiers  are  encamped  at  Palestrina." 


582  RIENZI 

"  How !  Dolt — fool !  Came  you  then  to  Rome 
alone!  Are  we  alone  with  this  dread  man?" 

"  You  are  the  dolt !  Why  came  you  hither  ?  "  an- 
swered the  brother. 

"  Why,  indeed !  but  that  I  knew  thou  wast  the  Cap- 
tain of  the  army;  and — but  thou  said'st  right — the 
folly  is  mine,  to  have  played  against  the  crafty  Trib- 
une so  unequal  a  brain  as  thine.  Enough!  Re- 
proaches are  idle.  When  were  ye  arrested  ?  " 

"  At  dusk — the  instant  we  entered  the  gates  of 
Rome.  Rienzi  entered  privately." 

"  Humph!  What  can  he  know  against  me?  Who 
can  have  betrayed  me?  My  secretaries  are  tried — all 
trustworthy — except  that  youth,  and  he  so  seemingly 
zealous — that  Angelo  Villani !  " 

"  Villani !  Angelo  Villani !  "  cried  the  brothers  in 
a  breath.  "  Hast  thou  confided  aught  to  him  ?  " 

"  Why,  I  fear  he  must  have  seen — at  least  in  part — 
my  correspondence  with  you,  and  with  the  Barons — he 
was  among  my  scribes.  Know  you  aught  of  him  ?  " 

"  Walter,  Heaven  hath  demented  you !  "  returned 
Brettone.  "  Angelo  Villani  is  the  favourite  menial  of 
the  Senator." 

"  Those  eyes  deceived  me,  then,"  muttered  Mon- 
treal, solemnly  and  shuddering ;  "  and,  as  if  her  ghost 
had  returned  to  earth,  God  smites  me  from  the 
grave ! " 

There  was  a  long  silence.  At  length  Montreal, 
whose  bold  and  sanguine  temper  was  never  long 
clouded,  spoke  again. 

"  Are  the  Senator's  coffers  full  ? — But  that  is  impos- 
sible." 

"  Bare  as  a  Dominican's." 

"  We  are  saved  then.     He  shall  name  his  price  for 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES        583 

our  heads.  Money  must  be  more  useful  to  him  than 
blood." 

And  as  if  with  that  thought  all  further  meditation 
were  rendered  unnecessary,  Montreal  doffed  his  man- 
tle, uttered  a  short  prayer,  and  flung  himself  on  a 
pallet  in  a  corner  of  the  cell. 

"  I  have  slept  on  worse  beds,"  said  the  Knight, 
stretching  himself;  and  in  a  few  minutes  he  was  fast 
asleep. 

The  brothers  listened  to  his  deep-drawn,  but  regu- 
lar breathing,  with  envy  and  wonder,  but  they  were  in 
no  mood  to  converse.  Still  and  speechless,  they  sate 
like  statues  beside  the  sleeper.  Time  passed  on,  and 
the  first  cold  air  of  the  hour  that  succeeds  to  mid- 
night crept  through  the  bars  of  their  cell.  The  bolts 
crashed,  the  door  opened,  six  men-at-arms  entered, 
passed  the  brothers,  and  one  of  them  touched  Mon- 
treal. 

"  Ha !  "  said  he,  still  sleeping,  but  turning  round. 
"  Ha !  "  said  he,  in  the  soft  Provencal  tongue,  "  sweet 
Adeline,  we  will  not  rise  yet — it  is  so  long  since  we 
met ! " 

"  What  says  he  ? "  muttered  the  guard,  shaking 
Montreal  roughly.  The  Knight  sprang  up  at  once, 
and  his  hand  grasped  the  head  of  his  bed  as  for  his 
sword.  He  stared  round  bewildered,  rubbed  his  eyes, 
and  then  gazing  on  the  guard,  became  alive  to  the 
present. 

"  Ye  are  early  risers  in  the  Capitol,"  said  he. 
"  What  want  ye  of  me  ?  " 

"  It  waits  you !  " 

"It!    What?"  said  Montreal. 

"  The  rack ! "  replied  the  soldier,  with  a  malignant 
scowl. 


584  RIENZI 

The  Great  Captain  said  not  a  word.  He  looked  for 
one  moment  at  the  six  swordsmen,  as  if  measuring  his 
single  strength  against  theirs.  His  eye  then  wandered 
round  the  room.  The  rudest  bar  of  iron  would  have 
been  dearer  to  him  than  he  had  ever  yet  found  the 
proofest  steel  of  Milan.  He  completed  his  survey  with 
a  sigh,  threw  his  mantle  over  his  shoulders,  nodded  at 
his  brethren,  and  followed  the  guard. 

In  a  hall  of  the  Capitol,  hung  with  the  ominous  silk 
of  white  rays  on  a  blood-red  ground,  sate  Rienzi  and 
his  councillors.  Across  a  recess  was  drawn  a  black 
curtain. 

"  Walter  de  Montreal,"  said  a  small  man  at  the  foot 
of  the  table,  "  Knight  of  the  illustrious  order  of  St. 
John  of  Jerusalem " 

"  And  Captain  of  the  Grand  Company  !  "  added  the 
prisoner,  in  a  firm  voice. 

"  You  stand  accused  of  divers  counts :  robbery  and 
murder,  in  Tuscany,  Romagna,  and  Apulia " 

"  For  robbery  and  murder,  brave  men,  and  belted 
knights,"  said  Montreal,  drawing  himself  up,  "  would 
use  the  words  '  war  and  victory.'  To  those  charges 
I  plead  guilty!  Proceed." 

"  You  are  next  accused  of  treasonable  conspiracy 
against  the  liberties  of  Rome  for  the  restoration  of  the 
proscribed  Barons — and  of  traitorous  correspondence 
with  Stefanello  Colonna  at  Palestrina." 

"  My  accuser?  " 

"  Step  forth,  Angelo  Villani!  " 

"  You  are  my  betrayer,  then  ?  "  said  Montreal  stead- 
ily. "  I  deserved  this.  I  beseech  you,  Senator  of 
Rome,  let  this  young  man  retire.  I  confess  my  cor- 
respondence with  the  Colonna,  and  my  desire  to  re- 
store the  Barons." 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES        585 

Rienzi  motioned  to  Villani,  who  bowed  and  with- 
drew. 

"  There  rests  only  then  for  you,  Walter  de  Montreal, 
to  relate,  fully  and  faithfully,  the  details  of  your  con- 
spiracy." 

"  That  is  impossible,"  replied  Montreal,  carelessly. 

"  And  why  ?  " 

"  Because,  doing  as  I  please  with  my  own  life,  I 
will  not  betray  the  lives  of  others." 

"  Bethink  thee — thou  wouldst  have  betrayed  the  life 
of  thy  judge !  " 

"  Not  betrayed — thou  didst  not  trust  me." 

"  The  law,  Walter  de  Montreal,  hath  sharp  inquisi- 
tors— behold !  " 

The  black  curtain  was  drawn  aside,  and  the  eye  of 
Montreal  rested  on  the  executioner  and  the  rack! 
His  proud  breast  heaved  indignantly. 

"  Senator  of  Rome,"  said  he,  "  these  instruments 
are  for  serfs  and  villeins.  I  have  been  a  warrior  and 
a  leader ;  life  and  death  have  been  in  my  hands — I  have 
used  them  as  I  listed ;  but  to  mine  equal  and  my  foe, 
I  never  proffered  the  insult  of  the  rack." 

"  Sir  Walter  de  Montreal,"  returned  the  Senator, 
gravely,  but  with  some  courteous  respect,  "  your  an- 
swer is  that  which  rises  naturally  to  the  lips  of  brave 
men.  But  learn  from  me,  whom  fortune  hath  made 
thy  judge,  that  no  more  for  serf  and  villein,  than  for 
knight  and  noble,  are  such  instruments  the  engines 
of  law,  or  the  tests  of  truth.  I  yielded  but  to  the 
desire  of  these  reverend  councillors,  to  test  thy  nerves. 
But,  wert  thou  the  meanest  peasant  of  the  Campagna, 
before  my  judgment-seat  thou  needst  not  apprehend 
the  torture.  Walter  de  Montreal,  amongst  the  Princes 
of  Italy  thou  hast  known,  amongst  the  Roman  Barons 


586  RIENZI 

thou  wouldst  have  aided,  is  there  one  who  could  make 
that  boast  ?  " 

"  I  desired  only,"  said  Montreal,  with  some  hesita- 
tion, "  to  unite  the  Barons  with  thee ;  nor  did  I  in- 
trigue against  thy  life!  " 

Rienzi  frowned — "  Enough,"  he  said,  hastily. 
"  Knight  of  St.  John,  I  know  thy  secret  projects,  sub- 
terfuge and  evasion  neither  befit  nor  avail  thee.  If 
thou  didst  not  intrigue  against  my  life,  thou  didst  in- 
trigue against  the  life  of  Rome.  Thou  hast  but  one 
favour  left  to  demand  on  earth,  it  is  the  manner  of  thy 
death." 

Montreal's  lip  worked  convulsively. 

"  Senator,"  said  he,  in  a  low  voice,  "  may  I  crave 
audience  with  thee  alone  for  one  minute  ?  " 

The  councillors  looked  up. 

"  My  Lord,"  whispered  the  eldest  of  them,  "  doubt- 
less he  hath  concealed  weapons — trust  him  not." 

"  Prisoner,"  returned  Rienzi,  after  a  moment's 
pause ;  "  if  thou  seekest  for  mercy  thy  request  is  idle, 
and  before  my  coadjutors  I  have  no  secret !  speak  out 
what  thou  hast  to  say ! " 

"  Yet  listen  to  me,"  said  the  prisoner,  folding  his 
arms,  "  it  concerns  not  my  life,  but  Rome's  welfare." 

"  Then,"  said  Rienzi,  in  an  altered  tone,  "  thy  re- 
quest is  granted.  Thou  mayest  add  to  thy  guilt  the 
design  of  the  assassin,  but  for  Rome  I  would  dare 
greater  danger." 

So  saying,  he  motioned  to  the  councillors,  who 
slowly  withdrew  by  the  door  which  had  admitted  Vil- 
lani,  while  the  guards  retired  to  the  farthest  extremity 
of  the  hall. 

"  Now,  Walter  de  Montreal,  be  brief,  for  thy  time  is 
short." 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES        587 

"  Senator,"  said  Montreal,  "  my  life  can  but  little 
profit  you ;  men  will  say  that  you  destroyed  your  cred- 
itor in  order  to  cancel  your  debt.  Fix  a  sum  upon  my 
life,  estimate  it  at  the  price  of  a  monarch's  ;  every  florin 
shall  be  paid  to  you,  and  your  treasury  will  be  filled 
for  five  years  to  come.  If  the  '  Buono  Stato  '  depends 
on  your  government,  what  I  have  asked,  your  solic- 
itude for  Rome  will  not  permit  you  to  refuse." 

"  You  mistake  me,  bold  robber,"  said  Rienzi  stern- 
ly ;  "  your  treason  I  could  guard  against,  and  therefore 
forgive;  your  ambition,  never!  Mark  me,  I  know 
you  !  Place  your  hand  on  your  heart  and  say  whether, 
could  we  change  places,  you,  as  Rienzi,  would  suffer 
all  the  gold  of  earth  to  purchase  the  life  of  Walter  de 
Montreal?  For  men's  reading  of  my  conduct,  that 
must  I  bear;  for  mine  own  reading,  mine  eyes  must 
be  purged  from  corruption.  I  am  answerable  to  God 
for  the  trust  of  Rome.  And  Rome  trembles  while 
the  head  of  the  Grand  Company  lives  in  the  plotting 
brain  and  the  daring  heart  of  Walter  de  Montreal. 
Man — wealthy,  great,  and  subtle  as  you  are,  your 
hours  are  numbered;  with  the  rise  of  the  sun  you 
die!" 

Montreal's  eyes,  fixed  upon  the  Senator's  face,  saw 
hope  was  over;  his  pride  and  his  fortitude  returned  to 
him. 

"  We  have  wasted  words,"  said  he.  "  I  played  for 
a  great  stake,  I  have  lost,  and  must  pay  the  forfeit! 
I  am  prepared.  On  the  threshold  of  the  Unknown 
World,  the  dark  spirit  of  prophecy  rushes  into  us. 
Lord  Senator,  I  go  before  thee  to  announce — that  in 
Heaven  or  in  Hell — ere  many  days  be  over,  room 
must  be  given  to  one  mightier  than  I  am !  " 

As  he  spoke,  his  form  dilated,  his  eye  glared;  and 


$88  RIENZI 

Rienzi,  cowering  as  never  had  he  cowered  before, 
shrunk  back,  and  shaded  his  face  with  his  hand. 

"  The  manner  of  your  death  ?  "  he  asked,  in  a  hollow 
voice. 

"  The  axe :  it  is  that  which  befits  knight  and  war- 
rior. For  thee,  Senator,  Fate  hath  a  less  noble 
death." 

"  Robber,  be  dumb !  "  cried  Rienzi,  passionately ; 
"  Guards,  bear  back  the  prisoner.  At  sunrise,  Mon- 
treal  " 

"  Sets  the  sun  of  the  scourge  of  Italy,"  said  the 
Knight,  bitterly.  "  Be  it  so.  One  request  more ;  the 
Knights  of  St.  John  claim  affinity  with  the  Augustine 
order;  grant  me  an  Augustine  confessor." 

"  It  is  granted ;  and  in  return  for  thy  denunciations, 
I,  who  can  give  thee  no  earthly  mercy,  will  implore 
the  Judge  of  all  for  pardon  to  thy  soul !  " 

"  Senator,  I  have  done  with  man's  mediation.  My 
brethren?  Their  deaths  are  not  necessary  to  thy 
safety  or  thy  revenge  !  " 

Rienzi  mused  a  moment :  "  No,"  said  he,  "  dangerous 
tools  they  were,  but  without  the  workman  they  may 
rust  unharming.  They  served  me  once,  too.  Pris- 
oner, their  lives  are  spared." 


CHAPTER   V 

THE    DISCOVERY 

The  Council  was  broken  up — Rienzi  hastened  to  his 
own  apartments.  Meeting  Villani  by  the  way,  he 
pressed  the  youth's  hand  affectionately.  "  You  have 
saved  Rome  and  me  from  great  peril,"  said  he ;  "  the 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES        589 

saints  reward  you !  "  Without  tarrying  for  Villani's 
answer,  he  hurried  on.  Nina,  anxious  and  perturbed, 
awaited  him  in  their  chamber. 

"  Not  a-bed  yet  ?  "  said  he :  "  fie,  Nina,  even  thy 
beauty  will  not  stand  these  vigils." 

"  I  could  not  rest  till  I  had  seen  thee.  I  hear  (all 
Rome  has  heard  it  ere  this)  that  thou  hast  seized  Wal- 
ter de  Montreal,  and  that  he  will  perish  by  the  heads- 
man." 

"  The  first  robber  that  ever  died  so  brave  a  death," 
returned  Rienzi,  slowly  unrobing  himself. 

"  Cola,  I  have  never  crossed  your  schemes, — your 
policy,  even  by  a  suggestion.  Enough  for  me  to 
triumph  in  their  success,  to  mourn  for  their  failure. 
Now,  I  ask  thee  one  request — spare  me  the  life  of  this 
man." 

«  Nina " 

"  Hear  me, — for  thee  I  speak !  Despite  his  crimes, 
his  valour  and  his  genius  have  gained  him  admirers, 
even  amongst  his  foes.  Many  a  prince,  many  a  state 
that  secretly  rejoices  at  his  fall,  will  affect  horror 
against  his  judge.  Hear  me  further;  his  brothers 
aided  your  return ;  the  world  will  term  you  ungrate- 
ful. His  brothers  lent  you  monies,  the  world — (out 
on  it !) — will  term  you " 

"  Hold !  "  interrupted  the  Senator.  "  All  that  thou 
sayest,  my  mind  forestalled.  But  thou  knowest  me — 
to  thee  I  have  no  disguise.  No  compact  can  bind 
Montreal's  faith — no  mercy  win  his  gratitude.  Before 
his  red  right  hand  truth  and  justice  are  swept  away. 
If  I  condemn  Montreal  I  incur  disgrace  and  risk 
danger — granted.  If  I  release  him,  ere  the  first  show- 
ers of  April,  the  chargers  of  the  Northmen  will  neigh 
in  the  halls  of  the  Capitol.  Which  shall  I  hazard  in 


590  RIENZI 

this  alternative,  myself  or  Rome  ?  Ask  me  no  more — 
to  bed,  to  bed !  " 

"  Couldst  thou  read  my  forebodings,  Cola,  mystic — 
gloomy — unaccountable  ?  " 

"  Forebodings ! — I  have  mine,"  answered  Rienzi, 
sadly,  gazing  on  space,  as  if  his  thoughts  peopled  it 
with  spectres.  Then,  raising  his  eyes  to  Heaven,  he 
said  with  that  fanatical  energy  which  made  much  both 
of  his  strength  and  weakness — "  Lord,  mine  at  least 
not  the  sin  of  Saul!  the  Amalekite  shall  not  be 
saved!" 

While  Rienzi  enjoyed  a  short,  troubled,  and  restless 
sleep,  over  which  Nina  watched — unslumbering,  anx- 
ious, tearful,  and  oppressed  with  dark  and  terrible 
forewarnings — the  accuser  was  more  happy  than  the 
judge.  The  last  thoughts  that  floated  before  the 
young  mind  of  Angelo  Villani,  ere  wrapped  in  sleep, 
were  bright  and  sanguine.  He  felt  no  honourable  re- 
morse that  he  had  entrapped  the  confidence  of  another 
— he  felt  only  that  his  scheme  had  prospered,  that  his 
mission  had  been  fulfilled.  The  grateful  words  of 
Rienzi  rang  in  his  ear,  and  hopes  of  fortune  and  power, 
beneath  the  sway  of  the  Roman  Senator,  lulled  him 
into  slumber,  and  coloured  all  his  dreams. 

Scarce,  however,  had  he  been  two  hours  asleep,  ere 
he  was  wakened  by  one  of  the  attendants  of  the  pal- 
ace, himself  half  awake.  "  Pardon  me,  Messere  Vil- 
lani," said  he,  "  but  there  is  a  messenger  below  from 
the  good  Sister  Ursula ;  he  bids  thee  haste  instantly 
to  the  convent — she  is  sick  unto  death,  and  has  tidings 
that  crave  thy  immediate  presence." 

Angelo,  whose  morbid  susceptibility  as  to  his  par- 
entage was  ever  excited  by  vague  but  ambitious  hopes 
— started  up,  dressed  hurriedly,  and  joining  the  mes- 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES        591 

senger  below,  repaired  to  the  Convent.  In  the  Court 
of  the  Capitol,  and  by  the  Staircase  of  the  Lion,  was 
already  heard  the  noise  of  the  workmen,  and  looking 
back,  Villani  beheld  the  scaffold,  hung  with  black — 
sleeping  cloudlike  in  the  gray  light  of  dawn — at  the 
same  time  the  bell  of  the  Capitol  tolled  heavily.  A 
pang  shot  athwart  him.  He  hurried  on ; — despite  the 
immature  earliness  of  the  hour,  he  met  groups  of  either 
sex,  hastening  along  the  streets  to  witness  the  execu- 
tion of  the  redoubted  Captain  of  the  Grand  Company. 
The  Convent  of  the  Augustines  was  at  the  farthest 
extremity  of  that  city,  even  then  so  extensive,  and  the 
red  light  upon  the  hill  tops  already  heralded  the  rising 
sun,  ere  the  young  man  reached  the  venerable  porch. 
His  name  obtained  him  instant  admittance. 

"  Heaven  grant,"  said  an  old  Nun,  who  conducted 
him  through  a  long  and  winding  passage,  "  that  thou 
mayst  bring  comfort  to  the  sick  sister :  she  has  pined 
for  thee  grievously  since  matins." 

In  a  cell  set  apart  for  the  reception  of  visitors  (from 
the  outward  world),  to  such  of  the  Sisterhood  as  re- 
ceived the  necessary  dispensation,  sate  the  aged  Nun. 
Angelo  had  only  seen  her  once  since  his  return  to 
Rome,  and  since  then  disease  had  made  rapid  havoc  on 
her  form  and  features.  And  now,  in  her  shroudlike 
garments  and  attenuated  frame,  she  seemed  by  the 
morning  light  as  a  spectre  whom  day  had  surprised 
above  the  earth.  She  approached  the  youth,  however, 
with  a  motion  more  elastic  and  rapid  than  seemed  pos- 
sible to  her  worn  and  ghastly  form.  "  Thou  art  come," 
she  said.  "  Well,  well !  This  morning  after  matins,  my 
confessor,  an  Augustine,  who  alone  knows  the  secrets 
of  my  life,  took  me  aside,  and  told  me  that  Walter 
de  Montreal  had  been  seized  by  the  Senator — that  he 


592  RIENZI 

was  adjudged  to  die,  and  that  one  of  the  Augustine 
brotherhood  had  been  sent  for  to  attend  his  last  hours 
—is  it  so  ?  " 

"  Thou  wert  told  aright,"  said  Angelo,  wonderingly. 
"  The  man  at  whose  name  thou  wert  wont  to  shudder 
— against  whom  thou  hast  so  often  warned  me — will 
die  at  sunrise." 

"  So  soon ! — so  soon ! — Oh,  Mother  of  Mercy !  fly ! 
thou  art  about  the  person  of  the  Senator,  thou  hast 
high  favour  with  him ;  fly !  down  on  thy  knees — and 
as  thou  hopest  for  God's  grace,  rise  not  till  thou  hast 
won  the  Provencal's  life." 

"  She  raves,"  muttered  Angelo,  with  white  lips. 

"  I  do  not  rave, — boy !  "  screeched  the  Sister,  wildly, 
"  know  that  my  daughter  was  his  leman.  He  dis- 
graced our  house, — a  house  haughtier  than  his  own. 
Sinner  that  I  was,  I  vowed  revenge.  His  boy — they 
had  only  one ! — was  brought  up  in  a  robber's  camp ; — 
a  life  of  bloodshed — a  death  of  doom — a  futurity  of 
hell — were  before  him.  I  plucked  the  child  from  such 
a  fate — I  bore  "him  away — I  told  the  father  he  was 
dead — I  placed  him  in  the  path  to  honourable  fortunes. 
May  my  sin  be  forgiven  me !  Angelo  Villani,  thou 
art  that  child  ; — Walter  de  Montreal  is  thy  father.  But 
now,  trembling  on  the  verge  of  death,  I  shudder  at  the 
vindictive  thoughts  I  once  nourished.  Perhaps " 

"  Sinner  and  accursed !  "  interrupted  Villani,  with  a 
loud  shout : — "  sinner  and  accursed  thou  art  indeed ! 
Know  that  it  was  /  who  betrayed  thy  daughter's  lover ! 
— by  the  son's  treason  dies  the  father !  " 

Not  a  moment  more  did  he  tarry :  he  waited  not  to 
witness  the  effect  his  words  produced.  As  one  frantic 
— as  one  whom  a  fiend  possesses  or  pursues — he 
rushed  from  the  Convent — he  flew  through  the  deso- 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES        593 

late  streets.  The  death-bell  came,  first  indistinct,  then 
loud,  upon  his  ear.  Every  sound  seemed  to  him  like 
the  curse  of  God;  on — on — he  passed  the  more  de- 
serted quarter — crowds  swept  before  him — he  was 
mingled  with  the  living  stream,  delayed,  pushed 
back — thousands  on  thousands  around,  before  him. 
Breathless,  gasping,  he  still  pressed  on — he  forced  his 
way — he  heard  not — he  saw  not — all  was  like  a  dream. 
Up  burst  the  sun  over  the  distant  hills; — the  bell 
ceased !  From  right  to  left  he  pushed  aside  the  crowd 
— his  strength  was  as  a  giant's.  He  neared  the  fatal 
spot.  A  dead  hush  lay  like  a  heavy  air  over  the  mul- 
titude. He  heard  a  voice,  as  he  pressed  along,  deep 
and  clear — it  was  the  voice  of  his  father ! — it  ceased — 
the  audience  breathed  heavily — they  murmured — they 
swayed  to  and  fro.  On,  on,  went  Angelo  Villani. 
The  guards  of  the  Senator  stopped  his  way; — he 
dashed  aside  their  pikes — he  eluded  their  grasp — he 
pierced  the  armed  barrier — he  stood  on  the  Place  of 
the  Capitol.  "  Hold,  hold !  "  he  would  have  cried — 
but  horror  struck  him  dumb.  He  beheld  the  gleam- 
ing axe — he  saw  the  bended  neck.  Ere  another  breath 
passed  his  lips,  a  ghastly  and  trunkless  face  was  raised 
on  high — Walter  de  Montreal  was  no  more! 

Villani  saw — swooned  not — shrunk  not — breathed 
not! — but  he  turned  his  eyes  from  that  lifted  head, 
dropping  gore,  to  the  balcony,  in  which,  according  to 
custom,  sate,  in  solemn  pomp,  the  Senator  of  Rome 

and  the  face  of  that  young  man  was  as  the  face  of 

a  demon ! 

"  Ha !  "  said  he,  muttering  to  himself,  and  recalling 
the  words  of  Rienzi  seven  years  before — "  Blessed  art 
thou  who  hast  no  blood  of  kindred  to  avenge!  " 
38 


594  RIENZI 

CHAPTER   VI 

r  • 
THE   SUSPENSE 

Walter  de  Montreal  was  buried  in  the  Church  of 
St.  Maria  dell'  Araceli.  But  the  "  evil  that  he  did 
lived  after  him !  "  Although  the  vulgar  had,  until 
his  apprehension,  murmured  against  Rienzi  for  allow- 
ing so  notorious  a  freebooter  to  be  at  large,  he  was 
scarcely  dead  ere  they  compassionated  the  object  of 
their  terror.  With  that  singular  species  of  piety  which 
Montreal  had  always  cultivated,  as  if  a  decorous  and 
natural  part  of  the  character  of  a  warrior,  no  sooner 
was  his  sentence  fixed,  than  he  had  surrendered  him- 
self to  the  devout  preparation  for  death.  With  the 
Augustine  Friar  he  consumed  the  brief  remainder  of 
the  night  in  prayer  and  confession,  comforted  his 
brothers,  and  passed  to  the  scaffold  with  the  step  of 
a  hero  and  the  self-acquittal  of  a  martyr.  In  the  won- 
derful delusions  of  the  human  heart,  far  from  feeling 
remorse  at  a  life  of  professional  rapine  and  slaughter, 
almost  the  last  words  of  the  trave  warrior  were  in 
proud  commendation  of  his  own  deeds.  "  Be  valiant 
like  me,"  he  said  to  his  brothers,  "  and  remember  that 
ye  are  now  the  heirs  to  the  Humbler  of  Apulia,  Tus- 
cany, and  La  Marca."* 

This  confidence  in  himself  continued  at  the  scaffold. 
"  I  die,"  he  said,  addressing  the  Romans — "  I  die  con- 
tented, since  my  bones  shall  rest  in  the  Holy  City  of 

"  Pregovi  che  vi  amiate  e  siate  valorosi  al  mondo,  come 
fui  to,  che  mi  feci  fare  obbedienza  a  la  Puglia,  Toscana,  e  a 
La  Marca." — Vit.  di  Cola  di  Rienzi,  lib.  ii.  cap.  22.  "  I  pray 
you  love  one  another,  and  be  valorous  as  was  I,  who  made 
Apulia,  Tuscany  and  La  Marca  own  obedience  to  me." — Life 
of  Cola  di  Rienzi. 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES        595 

St.  Peter  and  St.  Paul,  and  the  Soldier  of  Christ  shall 
have  the  burial-place  of  the  Apostles.  But  I  die  un- 
justly. My  wealth  is  my  crime — the  poverty  of  your 
state  my  accuser.  Senator  of  Rome,  thou  mayst 
envy  my  last  hour — men  like  Walter  de  Montreal  per- 
ish not  unavenged."  So  saying,  he  turned  to  the  East, 
murmured  a  brief  prayer,  knelt  down  deliberately,  and 
said  as  to  himself,  "  Rome  guard  my  ashes ! — Earth 
my  memory — Fate  my  revenge; — and,  now,  Heaven 
receive  my  soul ! — Strike !  "  At  the  first  blow,  the 
head  was  severed  from  the  body. 

His  treason  but  imperfectly  known,  the  fear  of  him 
forgotten,  all  that  remained  of  the  recollection  of  Wal- 
ter de  Montreal  *  in  Rome,  was  admiration  for  his 
heroism,  and  compassion  for  his  end.  The  fate  of 
Pandulfo  di  Guido,  which  followed  some  days  after- 
wards, excited  a  yet  deeper,  though  more  quiet,  senti- 
ment, against  the  Senator.  "  He  was  once  Rienzi's 
friend!"  said  one  man;  "  He  was  an  honest,  upright 
citizen !  "  muttered  another ;  "  He  was  an  advocate  of 
the  people !  "  growled  Cecco  del  Vecchio.  But  the 
Senator  had  wound  himself  up  to  a  resolve  to  be  in- 
flexibly just,  and  to  regard  every  peril  to  Rome  as 
became  a  Roman.  Rienzi  remembered  that  he  had 
never  confided  but  he  had  been  betrayed ;  he  had 
never  forgiven  but  to  sharpen  enmity.  He  was  amidst 
a  ferocious  people,  uncertain  friends,  wily  enemies; 

*  The  military  renown  and  bold  exploits  of  Montreal  are 
acknowledged  by  all  the  Italian  authorities.  One  of  them 
declares  that  since  the  time  of  Caesar,  Italy  had  never  known 
so  great  a  Captain.  The  biographer  of  Rienzi,  forgetting  all 
the  offences  of  the  splendid  and  knightly  robber,  seems  to 
feel  only  commiseration  for  his  fate.  He  informs  us,  more- 
over, that  at  Tivoli  one  of  his  servants  (perhaps  our  friend, 
Rodolf  of  Saxony),  hearing  his  death,  died  of  grief  the  fol- 
lowing day. 


596  RIENZI 

and  misplaced  mercy  would  be  but  a  premium  to  con- 
spiracy. Yet  the  struggle  he  underwent  was  visible  in 
the  hysterical  emotions  he  betrayed.  He  now  wept 
bitterly,  now  laughed  wildly.  "  Can  I  never  again 
have  the  luxury  to  forgive  ? "  said  he.  The  coarse 
spectators  of  that  passion  deemed  it, — some  imbecility, 
some  hypocrisy.  But  the  execution  produced  the 
momentary  effect  intended.  All  sedition  ceased,  ter- 
ror crept  throughout  the  city,  order  and  peace  rose  to 
the  surface ;  but  beneath,  in  the  strong  expression  of 
a  contemporaneous  writer,  "  Lo  mormorito  queta- 
mente  suonava."* 

On  examining  dispassionately  the  conduct  of  Rienzi 
at  this  awful  period  of  his  life,  it  is  scarcely  possible  to 
condemn  it  of  a  single  error  in  point  of  policy.  Cured 
of  his  faults,  he  exhibited  no  unnecessary  ostentation 
— he  indulged  in  no  exhibitions  of  intoxicated  pride — 
that  gorgeous  imagination  rather  than  vanity,  which 
had  led  the  Tribune  into  spectacle  and  pomp,  was  now 
lulled  to  rest,  by  the  sober  memory  of  grave  vicissi- 
tudes, and  the  stern  calmness  of  a  maturer  intellect. 
Frugal,  provident,  watchful,  self-collected,  "  never  was 
seen,"  observes  no  partial  witness,  "  so  extraordinary 
a  man/'f  "In  him  was  concentrated  every  thought  for 
every  want  of  Rome."  Indefatigably  occupied,  he  in- 
spected, ordained,  regulated  all  things ;  in  the  city,  in 
the  army,  for  peace,  or  for  war.  But  he  was  feebly 
supported,  and  those  he  employed  were  lukewarm  and 
lethargic.  Still  his  arms  prospered.  Place  after  place, 
fortress  after  fortress,  yielded  to  the  Lieutenant  of  the 
Senator :  and  the  cession  of  Palestrina  itself  was  hour- 
ly expected.  His  art  and  address  were  always  strik- 

"  The  murmur  quietly  sounded." 
t  Vit.  di  Cola  di  Rienzi,  lib.  ii.  c.  23. 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES        597 

ingly  exhibited  in  difficult  situations,  and  the  reader 
cannot  fail  to  have  noticed  how  conspicuously  they 
were  displayed  in  delivering  himself  from  the  iron 
tutelage  of  his  foreign  mercenaries.  Montreal  exe- 
cuted, his  brothers  imprisoned,  (though  their  lives 
were  spared,)  a  fear  that  induced  respect  was  stricken 
into  the  breasts  of  those  bandit  soldiers.  Removed 
from  Rome,  and,  under  Annibaldi,  engaged  against  the 
Barons,  constant  action  and  constant  success,  withheld 
those  necessary  fiends  from  falling  on  their  Master; 
while  Rienzi,  willing  to  yield  to  the  natural  antipathy 
of  the  Romans,  thus  kept  the  Northmen  from  all  con- 
tact with  the  city ;  and,  as  he  boasted,  was  the  only 
chief  in  Italy  who  reigned  in  his  palace  guarded  only 
by  his  citizens. 

Despite  his  perilous  situation — despite  his  suspi- 
cions, and  his  fears,  no  wanton  cruelty  stained  his 
stern  justice — Montreal  and  Pandulfo  di  Guido  were 
the  only  state  victims  he  demanded.  If,  according  to 
the  dark  Machiavelism  of  Italian  wisdom,  the  death  of 
those  enemies  was  impolitic,  it  was  not  in  the  act,  but 
the  mode  of  doing  it.  A  prince  of  Bologna,  or  of 
Milan  would  have  avoided  the  sympathy  excited  by 
the  scaffold,  and  the  drug  or  the  dagger  would  have 
been  the  safer  substitute  for  the  axe.  But  with  all 
his  faults,  real  and  imputed,  no  single  act  of  that  foul 
and  murtherous  policy,  which  made  the  science  of  the 
more  fortunate  princes  of  Italy,  ever  advanced  the 
ambition  or  promoted  the  security  of  the  Last  of 
the  Roman  Tribunes.  Whatever  his  errors,  he  lived 
and  died  as  became  a  man,  who  dreamed  the  vain 
but  glorious  dream,  that  in  a  corrupt  and  dastard 
populace  he  could  revive  the  genius  of  the  old 
Republic. 


598  RIENZI 

Of  all  who  attended  on  the  Senator,  the  most  as- 
siduous and  the  most  honoured  was  still  Angelo 
Villani.  Promoted  to  a  high  civil  station,  Rienzi  felt 
it  as  a  return  of  youth,  to  find  one  person  entitled  to 
his  gratitude ; — he  loved  and  confided  in  the  youth  as 
a  son.  Villani  was  never  absent  from  his  side,  except 
in  intercourse  with  the  various  popular  leaders  in  the 
various  quarters  of  the  city;  and  in  this  intercourse 
his  zeal  was  indefatigable — it  seemed  even  to  prey 
upon  his  health;  and  Rienzi  chid  him  fondly,  when- 
ever starting  from  his  own  reveries,  he  beheld  the  ab- 
stracted eye  and  the  livid  paleness  which  had  suc- 
ceeded the  sparkle  and  bloom  of  youth. 

Such  chiding  the  young  man  answered  only  by  the 
same  unvarying  words. 

"  Senator,  I  have  a  great  trust  to  fulfil ;  " — and  at 
these  words  he  smiled. 

One  day  Villani,  while  with  the  Senator,  said  rather 
abruptly,  "  Do  you  remember,  my  Lord,  that  before 
Viterbo,  I  acquitted  myself  so  in  arms,  that  even  the 
Cardinal  d'Albornoz  was  pleased  to  notice  me  ?  " 

"  I  remember  your  valour  well,  Angelo ;  but  why 
the  question  ?  " 

"  My  Lord,  Bellini,  the  Captain  of  the  Guard  of 
the  Capitol,  is  dangerously  ill." 

"  I  know  it." 

"  Whom  can  my  Lord  trust  at  the  post  ?  " 

"  Why,  the  Lieutenant." 

"  What ! — a    soldier    that    has    served    under    the 
Orsini !  " 
.  "  True.     Well !  there  is  Tommaso  Filangieri." 

"  An  excellent  man ;  but  is  he  not  kin  by  blood  to 
Pandulfo  di  Guido  ?  " 

"  Ay — is  he  so  ?     It  must  be  thought  of.     Hast  thou 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES        599 

any  friend  to  name  ?  "  said  the  Senator,  smiling,  "  Me- 
thinks  thy  cavils  point  that  way." 

"  My  Lord,"  replied  Villani,  colouring ;  "  I  am  too 
young,  perhaps;  but  the  post  is  one  that  demands 
fidelity  more  than  it  does  years.  Shall  I  own  it? — 
My  tastes  are  rather  to  serve  thee  with  my  sword  than 
with  my  pen." 

"Wilt  thou,  indeed,  accept  the  office?  It  is  of  less 
dignity  and  emolument  than  the  one  you  hold;  and 
you  are  full  young  to  lead  these  stubborn  spirits." 

"  Senator,  I  led  taller  men  than  they  are  to  the  as- 
sault at  Viterbo.  But,  be  it  as  seems  best  to  your 
superior  wisdom.  Whatever  you  do,  I  pray  you  to  be 
cautious.  If  you  select  a  traitor  to  the  command  of 
the  Capitol  Guard ! — I  tremble  at  the  thought !  " 

"  By  my  faith,  thou  dost  turn  pale  at  it,  dear  boy ; 
thy  affection  is  a  sweet  drop  in  a  bitter  draught. 
Whom  can  I  choose  better  than  thee? — thou  shalt 
have  the  post,  at  least  during  Bellini's  illness.  I  will 
attend  to  it  to-day.  The  business,  too,  will  less  fatigue 
thy  young  mind  than  that  which  now  employs  thee. 
Thou  art  over-laboured  in  our  cause." 

"  Senator,  I  can  but  repeat  my  usual  answer — I  have 
a  great  trust  to  fulfil !  " 


These  formidable  conspiracies  quelled,  the  Barons 
nearly  subdued,  and  three  parts  of  the  Papal  territory 
reunited  to  Rome,  Rienzi  now  deemed  he  might  safely 
execute  one  of  his  favourite  projects  for  the  preserva- 


6oo  RIENZI 

tion  of  the  liberties  of  his  native  city;  and  this  was 
to  raise  and  organise  in  each  quarter  of  Rome  a  Ro- 
man Legion.  Armed  in  the  defence  of  their  own  in- 
stitutions, he  thus  trusted  to  establish  amongst  her 
own  citizens  the  only  soldiery  requisite  for  Rome. 

But  so  base  were  the  tools  with  which  this  great 
man  was  condemned  to  work  out  his  noble  schemes, 
that  none  could  be  found  to  serve  .their  own  country, 
without  a  pay  equal  to  that  demanded  by  foreign  hire- 
lings. With  the  insolence  so  peculiar  to  a  race  that 
has  once  been  great,  each  Roman  said,  "  Am  I  not 
better  than  a  German? — Pay  me,  then,  accordingly." 

The  Senator  smothered  his  disgust — he  had  learned 
at  last  to  know  that  the  age  of  the  Catos  was  no  more. 
From  a  daring  enthusiast,  experience  had  converted 
him  into  a  practical  statesman.  The  Legions  were 
necessary  to  Rome — they  were  formed — gallant  their 
appearance  and  faultless  their  caparisons.  How  were 
they  to  be  paid?  There  was  but  one  means  to  main- 
tain Rome — Rome  must  be  taxed.  A  gabelle  was  put 
upon  wine  and  salt. 

The  Proclamation  ran  thus : — 

"  Romans !  raised  to  the  rank  of  your  Senator,  my 
whole  thought  has  been  for  your  liberties  and  welfare ; 
already  Treason  defeated  in  the  City,  our  banners 
triumphant  without,  attest  the  favour  with  which  the 
Deity  regards  men  who  seek  to  unite  liberty  with  law. 
Let  us  set  an  example  to  Italy  and  the  World !  Let 
us  prove  that  the  Roman  sword  can  guard  the  Roman 
Forum !  In  each  Rione  of  the  City  is  provided  a 
Legion*  of  the  Citizens,  collected  from  the  traders  and 
artisans  of  the  town;  they  allege  that  they  cannot 
leave  their  callings  without  remuneration.  Your  Sen- 
ator calls  upon  you  willingly  to  assist  in  your  own  de- 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES        601 

fence.  He  has  given  you  liberty ;  he  has  restored  to 
you  peace :  your  oppressors  are  scattered  over  the 
earth.  He  asks  you  now  to  preserve  the  treasures  you 
have  gained.  To  be  free,  you  must  sacrifice  some- 
thing; for  freedom,  what  sacrifice  too  great?  Con- 
fident of  your  support,  I  at  length,  for  the  first  time, 
exert  the  right  entrusted  to  me  by  office — and  for 
Rome's  salvation  I  tax  the  Romans !  " 

Then  followed  the  announcement  of  the  gabelle. 

The  proclamation  was  set  up  in  the  public  thorough- 
fares. Round  one  of  the  placards  a  crowd  assembled. 
Their  gestures  were  vehement  and  unguarded — their 
eyes  sparkled — they  conversed  low,  but  eagerly. 

"  He  dares  to  tax  us,  then !  Why,  the  Barons  or 
the  Pope  could  not  do  more  than  that !  " 

"  Shame  !  shame  !  "  cried  a  gaunt  female  ;  "  we,  who 
were  his  friends !  How  are  our  little  ones  to  get 
bread?" 

"  He  should  have  seized  the  Pope's  money ! "  quoth 
an  honest  wine-vender. 

N 

"  Ah  !  Pandulfo  di  Guido  would  have  maintained  an 
army  at  his  own  cost.  He  was  a  rich  man.  What  in- 
solence in  the  innkeeper's  son  to  be  a  Senator !  " 

"  We  are  not  Romans  if  we  suffer  this !  "  said  a  de- 
serter from  Palestrina. 

"  Fellow-citizens !  "  exclaimed  gruffly  a  tall  man, 
who  had  hitherto  been  making  a  clerk  read  to  him  the 
particulars  of  the  tax  imposed,  and  whose  heavy  brain 
at  length  understood  that  wine  was  to  be  made  dearer 
— "  Fellow-citizens,  we  must  have  a  new  revolution ! 
This  is  indeed  gratitude !  What  have  we  benefited  by 
restoring  this  man !  Are  we  always  to  be  ground  to 
the  dust  ?  To  pay — pay — pay !  Is  that  all  we  are  fit 
for?" 


602  RIENZI 

"  Hark  to  Cecco  del  Vecchio !  " 

"  No,  no ;  not  now,"  growled  the  smith.  "  To-night 
the  artificers  have  a  special  meeting.  We'll  see — we'll 
see!" 

A  young  man,  muffled  in  a  cloak,  who  had  not  been 
before  observed,  touched  the  smith. 

"  Whoever  storms  the  Capitol  the  day  after  to-mor- 
row at  the  dawn,"  he  whispered,  "  shall  find  the  guards 
absent ! " 

He  was  gone  before  the  smith  could  look  round. 

The  same  night  Rienzi,  retiring  to  rest,  said  to  An- 
gelo  Villani — "  A  bold  but  necessary  measure  this  of 
mine  !  how  do  the  people  take  it  ?  " 

"  They  murmur  a  little,  but  seem  to  recognise  the 
necessity.  Cecco  del  Vecchio  was  the  loudest  grum- 
bler, but  is  now  the  loudest  approver." 

"  The  man  is  rough ;  he  once  deserted  me ; — but 
then  that  fatal  excommunication!  He  and  the  Ro- 
mans learned  a  bitter  lesson  in  that  desertion,  and  ex- 
perience has,  I  trust,  taught  them  to  be  honest.  Well, 
if  this  tax  be  raised  quietly,  in  two  years  Rome  will 
be  again  the  Queen  of  Italy ; — her  army  manned — her 
Republic  formed;  and  then — then " 

"Then  what,  Senator?" 

"  Why  then,  my  Angelo,  Cola  di  Rienzi  may  die  in 
peace !  There  is  a  want  which  a  profound  experience 
of  power  and  pomp  brings  at  last  to  us — a  want  gnaw- 
ing as  that  of  hunger,  wearing  as  that  of  sleep! — my 
Angelo,  it  is  the  want  to  die! " 

"  My  Lord,  I  would  give  this  right  hand,"  cried 
Villani,  earnestly,  "  to  hear  you  say  you  were  attached 
to  life!" 

"  You  are  a  good  youth,  Angelo !  "  said  Rienzi,  as 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES        603 

he  passed  to  Nina's  chamber;  and  in  her  smile  and 
wistful  tenderness,  forgot  for  a  while — that  he  was  a 
great  man ! 


CHAPTER   VIII 

THE   THRESHOLD    OF   THE    EVENT 

The  next  morning  the  Senator  of  Rome  held  high 
Court  in  the  Capitol.  From  Florence,  from  Padua, 
from  Pisa,  even  from  Milan,  (the  dominion  of  the  Vis- 
conti,)  from  Genoa,  from  Naples, — came  Ambassadors 
to  welcome  his  return,  or  to  thank  him  for  having 
freed  Italy  from  the  freebooter  De  Montreal.  Venice 
alone,  who  held  in  her  pay  the  Grand  Company,  stood 
aloof.  Never  had  Rienzi  seemed  more  prosperous 
and  more  powerful,  and  never  had  he  exhibited  a  more 
easy  and  cheerful  majesty  of  demeanour. 

Scarce  was  the  audience  over,  when  a  messenger 
arrived  from  Palestrina.  The  town  had  surrendered, 
the  Colonna  had  departed,  and  the  standard  of  the 
Senator  waved  from  the  walls  of  the  last  hold  of  the 
rebellious  Barons.  Rome  might  now  at  length  con- 
sider herself  free,  and  not  a  foe  seemed  left  to  menace 
the  repose  of  Rienzi. 

The  Court  dissolved.  The  Senator,  elated  and  joy- 
ous, repaired  towards  his  private  apartments,  previous 
to  the  banquet  given  to  the  Ambassadors.  Villani  met 
him  with  his  wonted  sombre  aspect. 

"  No  sadness  to-day,  my  Angelo,"  said  the  Senator, 
gaily ;  "  Palestrina  is  ours !  " 

"  I  am  glad  to  hear  such  news,  and  to  see  my  Lord 
of  so  fair  a  mien,"  answered  Angelo.  "  Does  he  not 
now  desire  life  ?  " 


604  RIENZI 

"  Till  Roman  virtue  revives,  perhaps — yes !  But 
thus  are  we  fools  of  Fortune ; — to-day  glad — to-mor- 
row dejected !  " 

"  To-morrow,"  repeated  Villani,  mechanically :  "  Ay 
— to-morrow  perhaps  dejected !  " 

"  Thou  playest  with  my  words,  boy,"  said  Rienzi, 
half  angrily,  as  he  turned  away. 

But  Villani  heeded  not  the  displeasure  of  his  Lord. 

The  banquet  was  thronged  and  brilliant ;  and  Rienzi 
that  day,  without  an  effort,  played  the  courteous  host. 

Milanese,  Paduan,  Pisan,  Neapolitan,  vied  with  each 
other  in  attracting  the  smiles  of  the  potent  Senator. 
Prodigal  were  their  compliments — lavish  their  prom- 
ises of  support.  No  monarch  in  Italy  seemed  more 
securely  throned. 

The  banquet  was  over  (as  usual  on  state  occasions) 
at  an  early  hour;  and  Rienzi,  somewhat  heated  with 
wine,  strolled  forth  alone  from  the  Capitol.  Bending 
his  solitary  steps  towards  the  Palatine,  he  saw  the  pale 
and  veil-like  mists  that  succeed  the  sunset,  gather  over 
the  wild  grass  which  waves  above  the  Palace  of  the 
Caesars.  On  a  mound  of  ruins  (column  and  arch 
overthrown)  he  stood,  with  folded  arms,  musing  and 
intent.  In  the  distance  lay  the  melancholy  tombs  of 
the  Campagna,  and  the  circling  hills,  crested  with  the 
purple  hues  soon  to  melt  beneath  the  starlight.  Not 
a  breeze  stirred  the  dark  cypress  and  unwaving  pine. 
There  was  something  awful  in  the  stillness  of  the 
skies,  hushing  the  desolate  grandeur  of  the  earth  be- 
low. Many  and  mingled  were  the  thoughts  that  swept 
over  Rienzi's  breast :  memory  was  busy  at  his  heart. 
How  often,  in  his  youth,  had  he  trodden  the  same  spot ! 
— what  visions  had  he  nursed ! — what  hopes  conceived ! 
In  the  turbulence  of  his  later  life,  Memory  had  long 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES        605 

slept;  but  at  that  hour,  she  reasserted  her  shadowy 
reign  with  a  despotism  that  seemed  prophetic.  He 
was  wandering — a  boy,  with  his  young  brother,  hand 
in  hand,  by  the  river  side  at  eve :  anon  he  saw  a  pale 
face  and  gory  side,  and  once  more  uttered  his  impre- 
cations of  revenge !  His  first  successes,  his  virgin 
triumphs,  his  secret  love,  his  fame,  his  power,  his  re- 
verses, the  hermitage  of  Maiella,  the  dungeon  of  Avi- 
gnon, the  triumphal  return  to  Rome, — all  swept  across 
his  breast  with  a  distinctness  as  if  he  were  living  those 
scenes  again  ! — and  now! — he  shrunk  from  the  present, 
and  descended  the  hill.  The  moon,  already  risen, 
shed  her  light  over  the  Forum,  as  he  passed  through 
its  mingled  ruins.  By  the  Temple  of  Jupiter,  two 
figures  suddenly  emerged ;  the  moonlight  fell  upon 
their  faces,  and  Rienzi  recognised  Cecco  del  Vecchio 
and  Angelo  Villani.  They  saw  him  not ;  but,  eagerly 
conversing,  disappeared  by  the  Arch  of  Trajan. 

"  Villani !  ever  active  in  my  service !  "  thought  the 
Senator ;  "  methinks  this  morning  I  spoke  to  him 
harshly — it  was  churlish  in  me !  " 

He  re-entered  the  place  of  the  Capitol — he  stood  by 
the  staircase  of  the  Lion ;  there  was  a  red  stain  upon 
the  pavement,  unobliterated  since  Montreal's  execu- 
tion, and  the  Senator  drew  himself  aside  with  an  in- 
ward shudder.  Was  it  the  ghastly  and  spectral  light 
of  the  Moon,  or  did  the  face  of  that  old  Egyptian 
Monster  wear  an  aspect  that  was  as  of  life?  The 
stony  eyeballs  seemed  bent  upon  him  with  a  malig- 
nant scowl ;  and  as  he  passed  on,  and  looked  behind, 
they  appeared  almost  preternaturally  to  follow  his 
steps.  A  chill,  he  knew  not  why,  sunk  into  his  heart. 
He  hastened  to  regain  his  palace.  The  sentinels  made 
way  for  him.  .....  .. 


6o6  RIENZI 

"  Senator,"  said  one  of  them,  doubtingly,  "  Messere 
Angelo  Villani  is  our  new  captain — we  are  to  obey  his 
orders  ?  " 

"  Assuredly,"  returned  the  Senator,  passing  on. 
The  man  lingered  uneasily,  as  if  he  would  have  spoken, 
but  Rienzi  observed  it  not.  Seeking  his  chamber,  he 
found  Nina  and  Irene  waiting  for  him.  His  heart 
yearned  to  his  wife.  Care  and  toil  had  of  late  driven 
her  from  his  thoughts,  and  he  felt  it  remorsefully,  as 
he  gazed  upon  her  noble  face,  softened  by  the  solici- 
tude of  untiring  and  anxious  love. 

"  Sweetest,"  said  he,  winding  his  arms  around  her 
tenderly ;  "  thy  lips  never  chide  me,  but  thine  eyes 
sometimes  do!  We  have  been  apart  too  long. 
Brighter  days  dawn  upon  us,  when  I  shall  have  leisure 
to  thank  thee  for  all  thy  care.  And  you,  my  fair  sis- 
ter, you  smile  on  me ! — ah,  you  have  heard  that  your 
lover,  ere  this,  is  released  by  the  cession  of  Palestrina, 
and  to-morrow's  sun  will  see  him  at  your  feet.  De- 
spite all  the  cares  of  the  day,  I  remembered  thee,  my 
Irene,  and  sent  a  messenger  to  bring  back  the  blush 
to  that  pale  cheek.  Come,  come,  we  shall  be  happy 
again ! "  And  with  that  domestic  fondness  common 
to  him,  when  harsher  thoughts  permitted,  he  sate  him- 
self beside  the  two  persons  dearest  to  his  hearth  and 
heart. 

"  So  happy — if  we  could  have  many  hours  like 
this !  "  murmured  Nina,  sinking  on  his  breast.  "  Yet 
sometimes  I  wish " 

"  And  I  too,"  interrupted  Rienzi ;  "  for  I  read  thy 
woman's  thought — 7  too  sometimes  wish  that  fate  had 
placed  us  in  the  lowlier  valleys  of  life !  But  it  may 
come  yet!  Irene  wedded  to  Adrian — Rome  married 
to  Liberty — and  then,  Nina,  methinks  you  and  I 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES        60; 

would  find  some  quiet  hermitage,  and  talk  over  old 
gauds  and  triumphs,  as  of  a  summer's  dream.  Beauti- 
ful, kiss  me !  Couldst  thou  resign  these  pomps  ?  " 

"  For  a  desert  with  thee,  Cola  !  " 

"  Let  me  reflect,"  resumed  Rienzi ;  "  is  not  to-day 
the  seventh  of  October  ?  Yes !  on  the  seventh,  be  it 
noted,  my  foes  yielded  to  my  power !  Seven !  my  fated 
number,  whether  ominous  of  good  or  evil!  Seven 
months  did  I  reign  as  Tribune — seven  years  was  I 
absent  as  an  exile ;  to-morrow,  that  sees  me  without 
an  enemy,  completes  my  seventh  week  of  return ! " 

"  And  seven  was  the  number  of  the  crowns  the  Ro- 
man Convents  and  the  Roman  Council  awarded  thee, 
after  the  ceremony  which  gave  thee  the  knighthood  of 
the  Santo  Spirito!"\  said  Nina,  adding,  with  woman's 
tender  wit,  "  the  brightest  association  of  all !  " 

"  Follies  seem  these  thoughts  to  others,  and  to  phi- 
losophy, in  truth,  they  are  so,"  said  Rienzi ;  "  but  all 
my  life  long,  omen  and  type  and  shadow  have  linked 
themselves  to  action  and  event:  and  the  atmosphere 
of  other  men  hath  not  been  mine.  Life  itself  a  riddle, 
why  should  riddles  amaze  us?  The  Future! — what 
mystery  in  the  very  word !  Had  we  lived  all  through 
the  Past,  since  Time  was,  our  profoundest  experience  of 
a  thousand  ages  could  not  give  us  a  guess  of  the  events 

*  There  was  the  lapse  of  one  year  between  the  release  of 
Rienzi  from  Avignon,  and  his  triumphal  return  to  Rome:  a 
year  chiefly  spent  in  the  campaign  of  Albornoz. 

t  This  superstition  had  an  excuse  in  strange  historical 
coincidences;  and  the  number  seven  was  indeed  to  Rienzi 
what  the  3rd  of  September  was  to  Cromwell.  The  ceremony 
of  the  seven  crowns  which  he  received  after  his  knighthood, 
on  the  nature  of  which  ridiculous  ignorance  has  been  shown 
by  many  recent  writers,  was,  in  fact,  principally  a  religious 
and  typical  donation,  (symbolical  of  the  gifts  of  the  Holy 
Spirit,)  conferred  by  the  heads  of  convents — and  that  part  of 
the  ceremony  which  was  political,  was  republican,  not  regal. 


608  RIENZI 

that  wait  the  very  moment  we  are  about  to  enter! 
Thus  deserted  by  Reason,  what  wonder  that  we  recur 
to  the  Imagination,  on  which,  by  dream  and  symbol, 
God  sometimes  paints  the  likeness  of  things  to  come  ? 
Who  can  endure  to  leave  the  Future  all  unguessed, 
and  sit  tamely  down  to  groan  under  the  fardel  of  the 
Present?  No,  no!  that  which  the  foolish-wise  call 
Fanaticism,  belongs  to  the  same  part  of  us  as  Hope. 
Each  but  carries  us  onward — from  a  barren  strand  to 
a  glorious,  if  unbounded  sea.  Each  is  the  yearning 
for  the  GREAT  BEYOND,  which  attests  our  immortality. 
Each  has  its  visions  and  chimeras — some  false,  but  some 
true !  Verily,  a  man  who  becomes  great  is  often  but 
made  so  by  a  kind  of  sorcery  in  his  own  soul — a  Pythia 
which  prophesies  that  he  shall  be  great — and  so  ren- 
ders the  life  one  effort  to  fulfil  the  warning!  Is  this 
folly  ? — it  were  so,  if  all  things  stopped  at  the  grave ! 
But  perhaps  the  very  sharpening,  and  exercising,  and 
elevating  the  faculties  here — though  but  for  a  bootless 
end  on  earth — may  be  designed  to  fit  the  soul,  thus 
quickened  and  ennobled,  to  some  high  destiny  beyond 
the  earth  !  Who  can  tell  ?  not  I ! Let  us  pray  !  " 

While  the  Senator  was  thus  employed,  Rome  in  her 
various  quarters  presented  less  holy  and  quiet  scenes. 

In  the  fortress  of  the  Orsini,  lights  flitted  to  and 
fro,  through  the  gratings  of  the  great  court.  Angelo 
Villani  might  be  seen  stealing  from  the  postern-gate. 
Another  hour,  and  the  Moon  was  high  in  heaven; 
toward  the  ruins  of  the  Colosseum,  men,  whose  dress 
bespoke  them  of  the  lowest  rank,  were  seen  creeping 
from  lanes  and  alleys,  two  by  two ;  from  these  ruins 
glided  again  the  form  of  the  son  of  Montreal.  Later 
yet — the  Moon  is  sinking — a  gray  light  breaking  in 
the  East — and  the  gates  of  Rome,  by  St.  John  of  Lat- 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES        609 

eran,  are  open !  Villani  is  conversing  with  the  sen- 
tries! The  Moon  has  set — the  mountains  are  dim 
with  a  mournful  and  chilling  haze — Villani  is  before 
the  palace  of  the  Capitol — the  only  soldier  there ! 
Where  are  the  Roman  legions  that  were  to  guard  alike 
the  freedom  and  the  deliverer  of  Rome? 


CHAPTER   THE    LAST 

THE     CLOSE     OF     THE     CHASE 

It  was  the  morning  of  the  8th  of  October,  1354. 
Rienzi,  who  rose  betimes,  stirred  restlessly  in  his  bed. 
"  It  is  yet  early,"  he  said  to  Nina,  whose  soft  arm  was 
round  his  neck ;  "  none  of  my  people  seem  to  be  astir. 
Howbeit,  my  day  begins  before  theirs." 

"  Rest  yet,  my  Cola ;  you  want  sleep." 

"  No ;  I  feel  feverish,  and  this  old  pain  in  the  side 
torments  me.  I  have  letters  to  write." 

"  Let  me  be  your  secretary,  dearest,"  said  Nina. 

Rienzi  smiled  affectionately  as  he  rose ;  he  repaired 
to  his  closet  adjoining  his  sleeping  apartment,  and 
used  the  bath,  as  was  his  wont.  Then  dressing  himself, 
he  returned  to  Nina,  who,  already  loosely  robed,  sate 
by  the  writing-table,  ready  for  her  office  of  love. 

"  How  still  are  all  things !  "  said  Rienzi.  "  What  a 
cool  and  delicious  prelude,  in  these  early  hours,  to  the 
toilsome  day." 

Leaning  over  his  wife,  he  then  dictated  different  let- 
ters, interrupting  the  task  at  times  by  such  observa- 
tions as  crossed  his  mind. 

"  So,  now  to  Annibaldi !  By  the  way,  young  Adrian 
should  join  us  to-day ;  how  I  rejoice  for  Irene's  sake !  " 
39 


6io  RIENZI 

"  Dear  sister — yes !  she  loves, — if  any,  Cola,  can  so 
love, — as  we  do." 

"  Well,  but  to  your  task,  my  fair  scribe.  Ha !  what 
noise  is  that  ?  I  hear  an  armed  step — the  stairs  creak 
— some  one  shouts  my  name." 

Rienzi  flew  to  his  sword!  the  door  was  thrown 
rudely  open,  and  a  figure  in  complete  armour  ap- 
peared within  the  chamber. 

"  How !  what  means  this  ?  "  said  Rienzi,  standing 
before  Nina,  with  his  drawn  sword. 

The  intruder  lifted  his  visor — it  was  Adrian  Co- 
lonna. 

"  Fly,  Rienzi ! — hasten,  Signora !  Thank  Heaven, 
I  can  save  ye  yet!  Myself  and  train  released  by  the 
capture  of  Palestrina,  the  pain  of  my  wound  detained 
me  last  night  at  Tivoli.  The  town  was  filled  with 
armed  men — not  thine,  Senator.  I  heard  rumours 
that  alarmed  me.  I  resolved  to  proceed  onward — 
I  reached  Rome,  the  gates  of  the  city  were  wide 
open !  " 

"How!" 

"  Your  guard  gone.  Presently  I  came  upon  a  band 
of  the  retainers  of  the^Savelli.  My  insignia,  as  a  Co- 
lonna,  misled  them.  I  learned  that  this  very  hour 
some  of  your  enemies  are  within  the  city,  the  rest  are 
on  their  march — the  people  themselves  arm  against 
you.  In  the  obscurer  streets  I  passed  through,  the 
mob  were  already  forming.  They  took  me  for  thy 
foe,  and  shouted.  I  came  hither — thy  sentries  have 
vanished.  The  private  door  below  is  unbarred  and 
open.  Not  a  soul  seems  left  in  thy  palace.  Haste — 
fly — save  thyself ! — Where  is  Irene  ?  " 

"  The  Capitol  deserted  ! — impossible  !  "  cried  Rienzi. 
He  strode  across  the  chambers  to  the  ante-room, 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES        6n 

where  his  night-guard  usually  waited — it  was  empty! 
He  passed  hastily  to  Villani's  room — it  was  unten- 
anted !  He  would  have  passed  farther,  but  the  doors 
were  secured  without.  It  was  evident  that  all  egress 
had  been  cut  off,  save  by  the  private  door  below,  and 
that  had  been  left  open  to  admit  his  murtherers! 

He  returned  to  his  room — Nina  had  already  gone  to 
rouse  and  prepare  Irene,  whose  chamber  was  on  the 
other  side,  within  one  of  their  own. 

"  Quick,  Senator !  "  said  Adrian.  "  Methinks  there 
is  yet  time.  We  must  make  across  to  the  Tiber.  I 
have  stationed  my  faithful  squires  and  Northmen 
there.  A  boat  waits  us." 

"  Hark ! "  interrupted  Rienzi,  whose  senses  had  of 
late  been  preternaturally  quickened.  "  I  hear  a  dis- 
tant shout — a  familiar  shout,  '  Viva  1'  Popolo  ! '  Why, 
so  say  I !  These  must  be  friends." 

"  Deceive  not  thyself ;  thou  hast  scarce  a  friend  at 
Rome." 

"  Hist !  "  said  Rienzi,  in  a  whisper ;  "  save  Nina — 
save  Irene.  I  cannot  accompany  thee." 

"Art  thou  mad?" 

"  No !  but  fearless.  Besides,  did  I  accompany,  I 
might  but  destroy  you  all.  Were  I  found  with  you, 
you  would  be  massacred  with  me.  Without  me  ye 
are  safe.  Yes,  even  the  Senator's  wife  and  sister  have 
provoked  no  revenge.  Save  them,  noble  Colonna! 
Cola  di  Rienzi  puts  his  trust  in  God  alone ! " 

By  this  time  Nina  had  returned;  Irene  with  her. 
Afar  was  heard  the  tramp — steady — slow — gathering 
— of  the  fatal  multitude. 

"  Now,  Cola,"  said  Nina,  with  a  bold  and  cheerful 
air,  and  she  took  her  husband's  arm,  while  Adrian 
had  already  found  his  charge  in  Irene. 


612  RIENZI 

"  Yes,  now,  Nina ! "  said  Rienzi ;  "  at  length  we 
part !  If  this  is  my  last  hour — in  my  last  hour  I  pray 
God  to  bless  and  shield  thee !  for  verily,  thou  hast  been 
my  exceeding  solace — provident  as  a  parent,  tender  as 
a  child,  the  smile  of  my  hearth,  the — the " 

Rienzi  was  almost  unmanned.  Emotions,  deep, 
conflicting,  unspeakably  fond  and  grateful,  literally 
choked  his  speech. 

"  What !  "  cried  Nina,  clinging  to  his  breast,  and 
parting  her  hair  from  her  eyes,  as  she  sought  his 
averted  face.  "  Part ! — never !  This  is  my  place — all 
Rome  shall  not  tear  me  from  it !  " 

Adrian,  in  despair,  seized  her  hand,  and  attempted 
to  drag  her  thence. 

"  Touch  me  not,  sir ! "  said  Nina,  waving  her  arm 
with  angry  majesty,  while  her  eyes  sparkled  as  a 
lioness,  whom  the  huntsmen  would  sever  from  her 
young.  "  I  am  the  wife  of  Cola  di  Rienzi,  the  Great 
Senator  of  Rome,  and  by  his  side  I  will  live  and 
die ! " 

"  Take  her  hence  :  quick ! — quick !  I  hear  the 
crowd  advancing." 

Irene  tore  herself  from  Adrian,  and  fell  at  the  feet 
of  Rienzi — she  clasped  his  knees. 

"  Come,  my  brother,  come !  Why  lose  these  pre- 
cious moments?  Rome  forbids  you  to  cast  away  a 
life  in  which  her  very  self  is  bound  up." 

"  Right,  Irene ;  Rome  is  bound  up  with  me,  and  we 
will  rise  or  fall  together ! — no  more !  " 

"  You  destroy  us  all !  "  said  Adrian,  with  generous 
and  impatient  warmth.  "  A  few  minutes  more  and  we 
are  lost.  Rash  man !  it  is  not  to  fall  by  an  infuriate 
mob  that  you  have  been  preserved  from  so  many 
dangers." 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES        613 

"  I  believe  it,"  said  the  Senator,  as  his  tall  form 
seemed  to  dilate  as  with  the  greatness  of  his  own  soul. 
"  I  shall  triumph  yet !  Never  shall  mine  enemies — 
never  shall  posterity  say  that  a  second  time  Rienzi 
abandoned  Rome !  Hark  !  '  Viva  1'  Popolo  ! '  still  the 
cry  of  '  THE  PEOPLE.'  That  cry  scares  none  but 
tyrants !  I  shall  triumph  and  survive  !  " 

"  And  I  with  thee ! "  said  Nina,  firmly.  Rienzi 
paused  a  moment,  gazed  on  his  wife,  passionately 
clasped  her  to  his  heart,  kissed  her  again  and  again, 
and  then  said,  "  Nina,  I  command  thee, — Go !  " 

"Never!" 

He  paused.  Irene's  face,  drowned  in  tears,  met  his 
eyes. 

"  We  will  all  perish  with  you/'  said  his  sister ;  "  you 
only,  Adrian,  you  leave  us ! " 

"  Be  it  so,"  said  the  Knight  sadly ;  "  we  will 
all  remain,"  and  he  desisted  at  once  from  further 
effort. 

There  was  a  dead  but  short  pause,  broken  but  by  a 
convulsive  sob  from  Irene.  The  tramp  of  the  raging 
thousands  sounded  fearfully  distinct.  Rienzi  seemed 
lost  in  thought — then  lifting  his  head,  he  said,  calmly, 
"  Ye  have  triumphed — I  join  ye — I  but  collect  these 
papers,  and  follow  you.  Quick,  Adrian — save  them !  " 
and  he  pointed  meaningly  to  Nina. 

Waiting  no  other  hint,  the  young  Colonna  seized 
Nina  in  his  strong  grasp — with  his  left  hand  he  sup- 
ported Irene,  who  with  terror  and  excitement  was 
almost  insensible.  Rienzi  relieved  him  of  the  lighter 
load — he  took  his  sister  in  his  arms,  and  descended 
the  winding  stairs.  Nina  remained  passive — she  heard 
her  husband's  step  behind,  it  was  enough  for  her — 
she  but  turned  once  to  thank  him  with  her  eyes.  A 


614  RIENZI 

tall  Northman  clad  in  armour  stood  at  the  open  door. 
Rienzi  placed  Irene,  now  perfectly  lifeless,  in  the 
soldier's  arms,  and  kissed  her  pale  cheek  in  silence. 

"  Quick,  my  Lord,"  said  the  Northman,  "  on  all 
sides  they  come !  "  So  saying,  he  bounded  down  the 
descent  with  his  burthen.  Adrian  followed  with  Nina ; 
the  Senator  paused  one  moment,  turned  back,  and  was 
in  his  room  ere  Adrian  was  aware  that  he  had  van- 
ished. 

Hastily  he  drew  the  coverlid  from  his  bed,  fastened 
it  to  the  casement  bars,  and  by  its  aid  dropped  (at  a 
distance  of  several  feet)  into  the  balcony  below.  "  I 
will  not  die  like  a  rat,"  said  he,  "  in  the  trap  they  have 
set  for  me !  The  whole  crowd  shall,  at  least,  see  and 
hear  me." 

This  was  the  work  of  a  moment. 

Meanwhile,  Nina  had  scarcely  proceeded  six  paces, 
before  she  discovered  that  she  was  alone  with  Adrian. 

"  Ha !  Cola !  "  she  cried,  "  where  is  he  ?  he  has 
gone!" 

"  Take  heart,  Lady,  he  has  returned  but  for  some 
secret  papers  he  has  forgotten.  He  will  follow  us 
anon." 

"  Let  us  wait,  then." 

"  Lady,"  said  Adrian,  grinding  his  teeth,  "  hear  you 
not  the  crowd  ? — on,  on  !  "  and  he  flew  with  a  swifter 
step.  Nina  struggled  in  his  grasp — Love  gave  her 
the  strength  of  despair.  With  a  wild  laugh  she  broke 
from  him.  She  flew  back — the  door  was  closed — but 
unbarred — her  trembling  hands  lingered  a  moment 
round  the  spring.  She  opened  it,  drew  the  heavy  bolt 
across  the  panels,  and  frustrated  all  attempt  from 
Adrian  to  regain  her.  She  was  on  the  stairs — she  was 
in  the  room.  Rienzi  was  gone!  She  fled,  shrieking 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES        615 

his  name,  through  the  State  Chambers — all  was  deso- 
late. She  found  the  doors  opening  on  the  various  pas- 
sages that  admitted  to  the  rooms  below  barred  with- 
out. Breathless  and  gasping,  she  returned  to  the 
chamber.  She  hurried  to  the  casement — she  per- 
ceived the  method  by  which  he  had  descended  below 
— her  brave  heart  told  her  of  his  brave  design : — she 
saw  they  were  separated, — "  But  the  same  roof  holds 
us/'  she  cried,  joyously,  "  and  our  fate  shall  be  the 
same  !  "  With  that  thought  she  sank  in  mute  patience 
on  the  floor. 

Forming  the  generous  resolve  not  to  abandon  the 
faithful  and  devoted  pair  without  another  effort,  Adri- 
an had  followed  Nina,  but  too  late — the  door  was 
closed  against  his  efforts.  The  crowd  marched  on — 
he  heard  their  cry  change  on  a  sudden — it  was  no 
longer  "  LIVE  THE  PEOPLE  !  "  but,  "  DEATH  TO  THE 
TRAITOR  !  "  His  attendant  had  already  disappeared, 
and  waking  now  only  to  the  danger  of  Irene,  the 
Colonna  in  bitter  grief  turned  away,  lightly  sped  down 
the  descent,  and  hastened  to  the  river  side,  where  the 
boat  and  his  band  awaited  him. 

The  balcony  on  which  Rienzi  had  alighted  was  that 
from  which  he  had  been  accustomed  to  address  the 
people — it  communicated  with  a  vast  hall  used  on  sol- 
emn occasions  for  State  festivals — and  on  either  side 
were  square  projecting  towers,  whose  grated  case- 
ments looked  into  the  balcony.  One  of  these  towers 
was  devoted  to  the  armoury,  the  other  contained  the 
prison  of  Brettone,  the  brother  of  Montreal.  Beyond 
the  latter  tower  was  the  general  prison  of  the  Capitol. 
For  then  the  prison  and  the  palace  were  in  awful 
neighbourhood ! 

The  windows  of  the  Hall  were  yet  open — and  Rienzi 


616  RIENZI 

passed  into  it  from  the  balcony — the  witness  of  the 
yesterday's  banquet  was  still  there — the  wine,  yet  un- 
dried,  crimsoned  the  floor,  and  goblets  of  gold  and 
silver  shone  from  the  recesses.  He  proceeded  at  once 
to  the  armoury,  and  selected  from  the  various  suits 
that  which  he  himself  had  worn  when,  nearly  eight 
years  ago,  he  had  chased  the  Barons  from  the  gates  of 
Rome.  He  arrayed  himself  in  the  mail,  leaving  only 
his  head  uncovered ;  and  then  taking,  in  his  right 
hand,  from  the  wall,  the  great  Gonfalon  of  Rome,  re- 
turned once  more  to  the  hall.  Not  a  man  encoun- 
tered him.  In  that  vast  building,  save  the  prisoners, 
and  the  faithful  Nina,  whose  presence  he  knew  not  of — 
the  Senator  was  alone. 

On  they  came,  no  longer  in  measured  order,  as 
stream  after  stream — from  lane,  from  alley,  from  pal- 
ace and  from  hovel — the  raging  sea  received  new  ad- 
ditions. On  they  came — their  passions  excited  by 
their  numbers — women  and  men,  children  and  malig- 
nant age — in  all  the  awful  array  of  aroused,  released, 
unresisted  physical  strength  and  brutal  wrath ;  "  Death 
to  the  traitor — death  to  the  tyrant — death  to  him  who 
has  taxed  the  people  !  "  "  Mora  Ftraditore  che  ha  fatta 
la  gabella! — Mora! "  Such  was  the  cry  of  the  people 
— such  the  crime  of  the  Senator!  They  broke  over 
the  low  palisades  of  the  Capitol — they  rilled  with  one 
sudden  rush  the  vast  space ; — a  moment  before  so 
desolate, — now  swarming  with  human  beings  athirst 
for  blood ! 

Suddenly  came  a  dead  silence,  and  on  the  balcony 
above  stood  Rienzi — his  head  was  bared  and  the  morn- 
ing sun  shone  over  that  lordly  brow,  and  the  hair 
grown  gray  before  its  time,  in  the  service  of  that  mad- 
dening multitude.  Pale  and  erect  he  stood — neither 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES        617 

fear  nor  anger,  nor  menace — but  deep  grief  and  high 
resolve — upon  his  features !  A  momentary  shame — 
a  momentary  awe  seized  the  crowd. 

He  pointed  to  the  Gonfalon,  wrought  with  the  Re- 
publican motto  and  arms  of  Rome,  and  thus  he  be- 
gan :— 

"  I  too  am  a  Roman  and  a  Citizen !  hear  me ! " 

"  Hear  him  not !  hear  him  not !  his  false  tongue  can 
charm  away  our  senses !  "  cried  a  voice  louder  than 
his  own ;  and  Rienzi  recognised  Cecco  del  Vecchio. 

"  Hear  him  not !  down  with  the  tyrant !  "  cried  a 
more  shrill  and  youthful  tone :  and  by  the  side  of  the 
artisan  stood  Angelo  Villani. 

"  Hear  him  not !  death  to  the  death-giver !  "  cried 
a  voice  close  at  hand,  and  from  the  grating  of  the 
neighbouring  prison  glared  near  upon  him,  as  the 
eye  of  a  tiger,  the  vengeful  gaze  of  the  brother  of 
Montreal. 

Then  from  Earth  to  Heaven  rose  the  roar — "  Down 
with  the  tyrant — down  with  him  who  taxed  the 
people ! " 

A  shower  of  stones  rattled  on  the  mail  of  the  Sena- 
tor,— still  he  stirred  not.  No  changing  muscle  be- 
tokened fear.  His  persuasion  of  his  own  wonderful 
powers  of  eloquence,  if  he  could  but  be  heard,  inspired 
him  yet  with  hope ;  he  stood  collected  in  his  own  in- 
dignant, but  determined  thoughts ! — but  the  knowl- 
edge of  that  very  eloquence  was  now  his  deadliest  foe. 
The  leaders  of  the  multitude  trembled  lest  he  should  be 
heard ;  "  and  doubtless"  says  the  contemporaneous 
biographer,  "  had  he  but  spoken  he  would  have  changed 
them  all,  and  the  work  been  marred." 

The  soldiers  of  the  Barons  had  already  mixed  them- 
selves with  the  throng — more  deadly  weapons  than 


618  RIENZI 

stones  aided  the  wrath  of  the  multitude — darts  and 
arrows  darkened  the  air;  and  now  a  voice  was  heard 
shrieking,  "  Way  for  the  torches ! "  And  red  in  the  sun- 
light the  torches  tossed  and  waved,  and  danced  to  and 
fro,  above  the  heads  of  the  crowd,  as  if  the  fiends  were 
let  loose  amongst  the  mob !  And  what  place  in  hell 
hath  fiends  like  those  a  mad  mob  can  furnish  ?  Straw, 
and  wood  and  litter,  were  piled  hastily  round  the  great 
doors  of  the  Capitol,  and  the  smoke  curled  suddenly 
up,  beating  back  the  rush  of  the  assailants. 

Rienzi  was  no  longer  visible,  an  arrow  had  pierced 
his  hand — the  right  hand  that  supported  the  flag  of 
Rome — the  right  hand  that  had  given  a  constitution 
to  the  Republic.  He  retired  from  the  storm  into  the 
desolate  hall. 

He  sat  down; — and  tears,  springing  from  no  weak 
and  woman  source,  but  tears  from  the  loftiest  fountain 
of  emotion — tears  that  befit  a  warrior  when  his  own 
troops  desert  him — a  patriot  when  his  countrymen 
rush  to  their  own  doom — a  father  when  his  children 
rebel  against  his  love, — tears  such  as  these  forced 
themselves  from  his  eyes  and  relieved,  but  they  changed, 
his  heart! 

"  Enough,  enough !  "  he  said,  presently  rising  and 
dashing  the  drops  scornfully  away ;  "  I  have  risked, 
dared,  toiled  enough  for  this  dastard  and  degenerate 
race.  I  will  yet  baffle  their  malice — I  renounce  the 
thought  of  which  they  are  so  little  worthy ! — Let 
Rome  perish  ! — I  feel,  at  last,  that  I  am  nobler  than  my 
country ! — she  deserves  not  so  high  a  sacrifice  !  " 

With  that  feeling,  Death  lost  all  the  nobleness  of 
aspect  it  had  before  presented  to  him  ;  and  he  resolved, 
in  very  scorn  of  his  ungrateful  foes,  in  very  defeat  of 
their  inhuman  wrath,  to  make  one  effort  for  his  life! 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES        619 

He  divested  himself  of  his  glittering  arms ;  his  address, 
his  dexterity,  his  craft,  returned  to  him.  His  active 
mind  ran  over  the  chances  of  disguise — of  escape; — 
he  left  the  hall — passed  through  the  humbler  rooms, 
devoted  to  the  servitors  and  menials — found  in  one 
of  them  a  coarse  working  garb — indued  himself  with 
it — placed  upon  his  head  some  of  the  draperies  and 
furniture  of  the  palace,  as  if  escaping  with  them ;  and 
said,  with  his  old  "  fantastico  riso  "* — "  When  all  other 
friends  desert  me,  I  may  well  forsake  myself !  "  With 
that  he  awaited  his  occasion. 

Meanwhile  the  flames  burnt  fierce  and  fast;  the 
outer  door  below  was  already  consumed;  from  the 
apartment  he  had  deserted  the  fire  burst  out  in  volleys 
of  smoke — the  wood  crackled — the  lead  melted — with 
a  crash  fell  the  severed  gates — the  dreadful  entrance 
was  opened  to  all  the  multitude — the  proud  Capitol  of 
the  Caesars  was  already  tottering  to  its  fall ! — Now  was 
the  time ! — he  passed  the  flaming  door — the  smoulder- 
ing threshold ; — he  passed  the  outer  gate  unscathed — 
he  was  in  the  middle  of  the  crowd.  "  Plenty  of  pillage 
within,"  he  said  to  the  bystanders,  in  the  Roman  patois, 
his  face  concealed  by  his  load — "  Suso,  suso  a  gliu 
traditore! "  f  The  mob  rushed  past  him — he  went  on 
— he  gained  the  last  stair  descending  into  the  open 
streets — he  was  at  the  last  gate — liberty  and  life  were 
before  him. 

A  soldier  (one  of  his  own)  seized  him.  "  Pass  not — 
whither  goest  thou  ?  " 

"  Beware,  lest  the  Senator  escape  disguised !  "  cried 
a  voice  behind — it  was  Villani's.  The  concealing  load 
was  torn  from  his  head — Rienzi  stood  revealed! 

*  "  Fantastic  smile  or  laugh." 

t  "  Down,  down  with  the  traitor." 


620  RIENZI 

"  I  am  the  Senator ! "  he  said  in  a  loud  voice. 
"  Who  dare  touch  the  Representative  of  the  People  ?  " 

The  multitude  were  round  him  in  an  instant.  Not 
led,  but  rather  hurried  and  whirled  along,  the  Senator 
was  borne  to  the  Place  of  the  Lion.  With  the  intense 
glare  of  the  bursting  flames,  the  gray  image  reflected 
a  lurid  light,  and  glowed — (that  grim  and  solemn  mon- 
ument !) — as  if  itself  of  fare ! 

There  arrived,  the  crowd  gave  way,  terrified  by  the 
greatness  of  their  victim.  Silent  he  stood,  and  turned 
his  face  around ;  nor  could  the  squalor  of  his  garb,  nor 
the  terror  of  the  hour,  nor  the  proud  grief  of  detection, 
abate  the  majesty  of  his  mien,  or  reassure  the  courage 
of  the  thousands  who  gathered,  gazing,  round  him. 
The  whole  Capitol  wrapped  in  fire,  lighted  with 
ghastly  pomp  the  immense  multitude.  Down  the  long 
vista  of  the  streets  extended  the  fiery  light  and  the 
serried  throng,  till  the  crowd  closed  with  the  gleaming 
standards  of  the  Colonna — the  Orsini — the  Savelli ! 
Her  true  tyrants  were  marching  into  Rome !  As  the 
sound  of  their  approaching  horns  and  trumpets  broke 
upon  the  burning  air,  the  mob  seemed  to  regain  their 
courage.  Rienzi  prepared  to  speak;  his  first  word 
was  as  the  signal  of  his  own  death. 

"  Die,  tyrant !  "  cried  Cecco  del  Vecchio :  and  he 
plunged  his  dagger  in  the  Senator's  breast. 

"  Die,  executioner  of  Montreal !  "  muttered  Villani : 
"  thus  the  trust  is  fulfilled !  "  and  his  was  the  second 
stroke.  Then  as  he  drew  back,  and  saw  the  artisan  in 
all  the  drunken  fury  of  his  brute  passion,  tossing  up 
his  cap,  shouting  aloud,  and  spurning  the  fallen  lion, — 
the  young  man  gazed  upon  him  with  a  look  of  wither- 
ing and  bitter  scorn,  and  said,  while  he  sheathed  his 
blade,  and  slowly  turned  to  quit  the  crowd — 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES        621 

"  Fool,  miserable  fool !  thou  and  these  at  least  had 
no  blood  of  kindred  to  avenge! " 

They  heeded  not  his  words — they  saw  him  not  de- 
part ;  for  as  Rienzi,  without  a  word,  without  a  groan, 
fell  to  the  earth, — as  the  roaring  waves  of  the  multi- 
tude closed  over  him, — a  voice,  shrill,  sharp,  and  wild, 
was  heard  above  all  the  clamour.  At  the  casement  of 
the  Palace,  (the  casement  of  her  bridal  chamber,)  Nina 
stood ! — through  the  flames  that  burst  below  and 
around,  her  face  and  outstretched  arms  alone  visible ! 
Ere  yet  the  sound  of  that  thrilling  cry  passed  from  the 
air,  down  with  a  mighty  crash  thundered  that  whole 
wing  of  the  Capitol, — a  blackened  and  smouldering 
mass. 

At  that  hour,  a  solitary  boat  was  gliding  swiftly 
along  the  Tiber.  Rome  was  at  a  distance,  but  the 
lurid  glow  of  the  conflagration  cast  its  reflection  upon 
the  placid  and  glassy  stream :  fair  beyond  description 
was  the  landscape !  soft  beyond  all  art  of  Painter  and 
of  Poet,  the  sunlight  quivering  over  the  autumnal 
herbage,  and  hushing  into  tender  calm  the  waves  of 
the  golden  River! 

Adrian's  eyes  were  strained  towards  the  towers  of 
the  Capitol,  distinguished  by  the  flames  from  the  spires 
and  domes  around ; — senseless,  and  clasped  to  his 
guardian  breast,  Irene  was  happily  unconscious  of  the 
horrors  of  the  time. 

"  They  dare  not — they  dare  not,"  said  the  brave 
Colonna,  "  touch  a  hair  of  that  sacred  head ! — if 
Rienzi  fall,  the  liberties  of  Rome  fall  for  ever! 
As  those  towers  that  surmount  the  flames,  the  pride 
and  monument  of  Rome,  he  shall  rise  above  the 
dangers  of  the  hour.  Behold,  still  unscathed  amidst 


622  .     RIENZI 

the   raging   element,    the    Capitol    itself   is    his    em- 
blem !  " 

Scarce  had  he  spoken,  when  a  vast  volume  of  smoke 
obscured  the  fires  afar  off,  a  dull  crash,  (deadened  by 
the  distance)  travelled  to  his  ear,  and  the  next  moment, 
the  towers  on  which  he  gazed  had  vanished  from  the 
scene,  and  one  intense  and  sullen  glare  seemed  to  set- 
tle over  the  atmosphere, — making  all  Rome  itself  the 
funeral  pyre  of  THE  LAST  OF  THE  ROMAN  TRIBUNES  ! 


APPENDIX    I 

SOME  REMARKS  ON  THE  LIFE  AND  CHARACTER 
OF  RIENZI 

The  principal  authority  from  which  historians  have  taken 
their  account  of  the  life  and  times  of  Rienzi  is  a  very  curious 
biography,  by  some  unknown  contemporary;  and  this,  which 
is  in  the  Roman  patois  of  the  time,  has  been  rendered  not 
quite  unfamiliar  to  the  French  and  English  reader  by  the 
work  of  Pere  du  Cerceau,  called  "  Conjuration  de  Nicholas 
Gabini,  dit  de  Rienzi,"*  which  has  at  once  pillaged  and  de- 
formed the  Roman  biographer.  The  biography  I  refer  to 
was  published  (and  the  errors  of  the  former  editions  revised) 
by  Muratori  in  his  great  collection;  and  has  lately  been  re- 
printed separately  in  an  improved  text,  accompanied  by  notes 
of  much  discrimination  and  scholastic  taste,  and  a  comment 
upon  that  celebrated  poem  of  Petrarch,  "  Spirto  Gentil," 
which  the  majority  of  Italian  critics  have  concurred  in  con- 
sidering addressed  to  Rienzi,  in  spite  of  the  ingenious  argu- 
ments to  the  contrary  by  the  Abbe  de  Sade. 

This  biography  has  been  generally  lauded  for  its  rare  im- 
partiality. And  the  author  does,  indeed,  praise  and  blame 
alike  with  a  most  singular  appearance  of  stolid  candour.  The 
work,  in  truth,  is  one  of  those  not  uncommon  proofs,  of 
which  Boswell's  "  Johnson  "  is  the  most  striking,  that  a  very 
valuable  book  may  be  written  by  a  very  silly  man.  The 
biographer  of  Rienzi  appears  more  like  the  historian  of 
Rienzi's  clothes,  so  minute  is  he  on  all  details  of  their  colour 
and  quality — so  silent  is  he  upon  everything  that  could  throw 
light  upon  the  motives  of  their  wearer.  In  fact,  granting 
the  writer  every  desire  to  be  impartial,  he  is  too  foolish  to 
be  so.  It  requires  some  cleverness  to  judge  accurately  of  a 
very  clever  man  in  very  difficult  circumstances;  and  the 

*  See  for  a  specimen  of  the  singular  blunders  of  the  French- 
man's work,  Appendix  II. 

623 


624  APPENDIX    I 

worthy  biographer  is  utterly  incapable  of  giving  us  any  clue 
to  the  actions  of  Rienzi — utterly  unable  to  explain  the  con- 
duct of  the  man  by  the  circumstances  of  the  time.  The  weak- 
ness of  his  vision  causes  him,  therefore,  often  to  squint.  We 
must  add  to  his  want  of  wisdom  a  want  of  truth,  which  the 
Herodotus-like  simplicity  of  his  style  frequently  conceals. 
He  describes  things  which  had  no  witness  as  precisely  and 
distinctly  as  those  which  he  himself  had  seen.  For  instance, 
before  the  death  of  Rienzi,  in  those  awful  moments  when 
the  Senator  was  alone,  unheard,  unseen,  he  coolly  informs 
us  of  each  motion,  and  each  thought  of  Rienzi's,  with  as 
much  detail  as  if  Rienzi  had  returned  from  the  grave  to 
assist  his  narration.  These  obvious  inventions  have  been 
adopted  by  Gibbon  and  others  with  more  good  faith  than 
the  laws  of  evidence  would  warrant.  Still,  however,  to  a 
patient  and  cautious  reader  the  biography  may  furnish  a 
much  better  notion  of  Rienzi's  character,  than  we  can  glean 
from  the  historians  who  have  borrowed  from  it  piecemeal. 
Such  a  reader  will  discard  all  the  writer's  reasonings,  will 
think  little  of  his  praise  or  blame,  and  regard  only  the  facts 
he  narrates,  judging  them  true  or  doubtful,  according  as  the 
writer  had  the  opportunities  of  being  himself  the  observer. 
Thus  examining,  the  reader  will  find  evidence  sufficient  of 
Rienzi's  genius  and  Rienzi's  failings.  Carefully  distinguish- 
ing between  the  period  of  his  power  as  Tribune,  and  that  of 
his  power  as  Senator,  he  will  find  the  Tribune  vain,  haughty, 
fond  of  display;  but,  despite  the  reasonings  of  the  biographer, 
he  will  not  recognise  those  faults  in  the  Senator.  On  the 
other  hand,  he  will  notice  the  difference  between  youth  and 
maturity — hope  and  experience;  he  will  notice  in  the  Tribune 
vast  ambition,  great  schemes,  enterprising  activity — which 
sober  into  less  gorgeous  and  more  quiet  colours  in  the  por- 
trait of  the  Senator.  He  will  find  that  in  neither  instance  did 
Rienzi  fall  from  his  own  faults — he  will  find  that  the  vulgar 
moral  of  ambition,  blasted  by  its  own  excesses,  is  not  the  true 
moral  of  the  Roman's  life;  he  will  find  that,  both  in  his 
abdication  as  Tribune,  and  his  death  as  Senator,  Rienzi  fell 
from  the  vices  of  the  People.  The  Tribune  was  a  victim  to 
ignorant  cowardice — the  Senator,  a  victim  to  ferocious 
avarice.  It  is  this  which  modern  historians  have  failed  to 
represent.  Gibbon  records  rightly,  that  the  Count  of  Minor- 
bino  entered  Rome  with  one  hundred  and  fifty  soldiers,  and 
barricadoed  the  quarter  of  the  Colonna— that  the  bell  of  the 


APPENDIX    I  625 

Capitol  sounded — that  Rienzi  addressed  the  People — that  they 
were  silent  and  inactive — and  that  Rienzi  then  abdicated  the 
government.  But  for  this  he  calls  Rienzi  "  pusillanimous." 
Is  not  that  epithet  to  be  applied  to  the  People?  Rienzi  in- 
voked them  to  move  against  the  Robber — the  People  refused 
to  obey.  Rienzi  wished  to  fight — the  People  refused  to  stir. 
It  was  not  the  cause  of  Rienzi  alone  which  demanded  their 
exertions — it  was  the  cause  of  the  People — theirs,  not  his,  the 
shame,  if  one  hundred  and  fifty  foreign  soldiers  mastered 
Rome,  overthrew  their  liberties,  and  restored  their  tyrants! 
Whatever  Rienzi's  sins,  whatever  his  unpopularity,  their  free- 
dom, their  laws,  their  republic,  were  at  stake;  and  these  they 
surrendered  to  one  hundred  and  fifty  hirelings!  This  is  the 
fact  that  damns  them!  But  Rienzi  was  not  unpopular  when 
he  addressed  and  conjured  them;  they  found  no  fault  with 
him.  "  The  sighs  and  the  groans  of  the  People,"  says 
Sismondi,  justly,  "  replied  to  his," — they  could  weep,  but 
they  would  not  fight.  This  strange  apathy  the  modern  his- 
torians have  not  accounted  for.  yet  the  principal  cause  was 
obvious — Rienzi  was  excommunicated!*  In  stating  the  fact, 

*  And  this  curse  I  apprehend  to  have  been  the  more 
effective  in  the  instance  of  Rienzi,  from  a  fact  that  it  would 
be  interesting  and  easy  to  establish:  viz.,  that  he  owed  his 
rise  as  much  to  religious  as  to  civil  causes.  He  aimed  evi- 
dently to  be  a  religious  Reformer.  All  his  devices,  cere- 
monies, and  watchwords,  were  of  a  religious  character.  The 
monks  took  part  with  his  enterprise,  and  joined  in  the  revo- 
lution. His  letters  are  full  of  mystical  fanaticism.  His  refer- 
ences to  ancient  heroes  of  Rome  are  always  mingled  with 
invocations  to  her  Christian  Saints.  The  Bible,  at  that  time 
little  read  by  the  public  civilians  of  Italy,  is  constantly  in  his 
hands,  and  his  addresses  studded  with  texts.  His  very  gar- 
ments were  adorned  with  sacred  and  mysterious  emblems. 
No  doubt,  the  ceremony  of  his  Knighthood,  which  Gibbon 
ridicules  as  an  act  of  mere  vanity,  was  but  another  of  his 
religious  extravagances;  for  he  peculiarly  dedicated  his 
Knighthood  to  the  service  of  the  Santo  Spirito;  and  his 
bathing  in  the  vase  of  Constantine  was  quite  of  a  piece,  not 
with  the  vanity  of  the  Tribune,  but  with  the  extravagance 
of  the  Fanatic.  In  fact,  they  tried  hard  to  prove  him  a 
heretic;  but  he  escaped  a  charge  under  the  mild  Innocent, 
which  a  century  or  two  before,  or  a  century  or  two  after- 
wards, would  have  sufficed  to  have  sent  a  dozen  Rienzis  to 
the  stake.  I  have  dwelt  the  more  upon  this  point,  because, 
if  it  be  shown  that  religious  causes  operated  with  those  of 
liberty,  we  throw  a  new  light  upon  the  whole  of  that  most 
40 


626  APPENDIX    I 

these  writers  have  seemed  to  think  that  excommunication  in 
Rome,  in  the  fourteenth  century,  produced  no  effect! — the 
effect  it  did  produce  I  have  endeavoured  in  these  pages  to 
convey. 

The  causes  of  the  second  fall  and  final  murder  of  Rienzi 
are  equally  misstated  by  modern  narrators.  It  was  from  no 
fault  of  his — no  injustice,  no  cruelty,  no  extravagance — it  was 
not  from  the  execution  of  Montreal,  nor  that  of  Pandulfo  di 
Guido— it  was  from  a  gabelle  on  wine  and  salt  that  he  fell.  To 
preserve  Rome  from  the  tyrants  it  was  necessary  to  maintain 
an  armed  force;  to  pay  the  force  a  tax  was  necessary;  the  tax 
was  imposed — and  the  multitude  joined  with  the  tyrants,  and 
their  cry  was,  "  Perish  the  traitor  who  has  made  the  gabelle!  " 
This  was  their  only  charge — this  the  only  crime  that  their 
passions  and  their  fury  could  cite  against  him. 

The  faults  of  Rienzi  are  sufficiently  visible,  and  I  have  not 
unsparingly  shewn  them;  but  we  must  judge  men,  not  ac- 
cording as  they  approach  perfection,  but  according  as  their 
good  or  bad  qualities  preponderate — their  talents  or  their 
weaknesses — the  benefits  they  effected,  the  evil  they  wrought. 
For  a  man  who  rose  to  so  great  a  power,  Rienzi's  faults  were 
singularly  few — crimes  he  committed  none.  He  is  almost  the 
only  man  who  ever  rose  from  the  rank  of  a  citizen  to  a 
power  equal  to  that  of  monarchs  without  a  single  act  of  vio- 
lence or  treachery.  When  in  power,  he  was  vain,  ostenta- 
tious, and  imprudent, — always  an  enthusiast — often  a  fanatic; 
but  his  very  faults  had  greatness  of  soul,  and  his  very  fanati- 
cism at  once  supported  his  enthusiastic  daring,  and  proved 
his  earnest  honesty.  It  is  evident  that  no  heinous  charge 
could  be  brought  against  him  even  by  his  enemies,  for  all 
the  accusations  to  which  he  was  subjected,  when  excom- 
municated, exiled,  fallen,  were  for  two  offences  which  Pe- 
trarch rightly  deemed  the  proofs  of  his  virtue  and  his  glory: 
first,  for  declaring  Rome  to  be  free;  secondly,  for  pretending 

extraordinary  revolution,  and  its  suddenness  is  infinitely  less 
striking.  The  deep  impression  Rienzi  produced  upon  that 
populace  was  thus  stamped  with  the  spirit  of  the  religious 
enthusiast  more  than  that  of  the  classical  demagogue.  And, 
as  in  the  time  of  Cromwell,  the  desire  for  temporal  liberty  was 
warmed  and  coloured  by  the  presence  of  a  holier  and  more 
spiritual  fervour: — "The  Good  Estate"  (Buono  Stato)  of 
Rienzi  reminds  us  a  little  of  the  Good  Cause  of  General 
Cromwell. 


APPENDIX    I  627 

that  the  Romans  had  a  right  of  choice  in  the  election  of  the 
Roman  Emperor.*  Stern,  just,  and  inflexible,  as  he  was 
when  Tribune,  his  fault  was  never  that  of  wanton  cruelty. 
The  accusation  against  him,  made  by  the  gentle  Petrarch, 
indeed,  was,  that  he  was  not  determined  enough — that  he  did 
not  consummate  the  revolution  by  exterminating  the  patrician 
tyrants.  When  Senator,  he  was,  without  sufficient  ground, 
accused  of  avarice  in  the  otherwise  just  and  necessary  execu- 
tion of  Montreal.!  It  was  natural  enough  that  his  enemies 
and  the  vulgar  should  suppose  that  he  executed  a  creditor  to 
get  rid  of  a  debt;  but  it  was  inexcusable  in  later,  and  wiser, 
and  fairer  writers  to  repeat  so  grave  a  calumny,  without  at 
least  adding  the  obvious  suggestion,  that  the  avarice  of  Rienzi 
could  have  been  much  better  gratified  by  sparing  than  by 
destroying  the  life  of  one  of  the  richest  subjects  in  Europe. 
Montreal,  we  may  be  quite  sure,  would  have  purchased  his 
life  at  an  immeasurably  higher  price  than  the  paltry  sum'  lent 
to  Rienzi  by  his  brothers.  And  this  is  not  a  probable  hypoth- 
esis, but  a  certain  fact,  for  we  are  expressly  told  that  Mon- 
treal, "  knowing  the  Tribune  was  in  want  of  money,  offered 
Rienzi,  that  if  he  would  let  him  go,  he,  Montreal,  would 
furnish  him  not  only  with  twenty  thousand  florins,  (four  times 
the  amount  of  Rienzi's  debt  to  him,)  but  with  as  many 
soldiers  and  as  much  money  as  he  pleased."  This  offer 
Rienzi  did  not  attend  to.  Would  he  have  rejected  it  had 
avarice  been  his  motive?  And  what  culpable  injustice,  to 
mention  the  vague  calumny  without  citing  the  practical  con- 
tradiction! When  Gibbon  tells  us,  also,  that  "  the  most  virtu- 
ous citizen  of  Rome,"  meaning  Pandulfo,  or  Pandulficcio  di 
Guido,$  was  sacrificed  to  his  jealousy,  he  a  little  exaggerates 

*  The  charge  of  heresy  was  dropped. 

t  Gibbon,  in  mentioning  the  execution  of  Montreal,  omits 
to  state  that  Montreal  was  more  than  suspected  of  conspiracy 
and  treason  to  restore  the  Colonna.  Matthew  Villani  records 
it  as  a  common  belief  that  such  truly  was  the  offence  of  the 
Provengal.  The  biographer  of  Rienzi  gives  additional  evi- 
dence of  the  fact.  Gibbon's  knowledge  of  this  time  was 
superficial.  As  one  instance  of  this,  he  strangely  enough 
represents  Montreal  as  the  head  of  the  first  Free  Company 
that  desolated  Italy:  he  took  that  error  from  the  Pere  du 
Cerceau. 

$  Matthew  Villani  speaks  of  him  as  a  wise  and  good  citizen, 
of  great  repute  among  the  People — and  this,  it  seems,  he 
really  was. 


628  APPENDIX    I 

the  expression  bestowed  upon  Pandulfo,  which  is  that  of 
"  virtuoso  assai;  "  and  that  expression,  too,  used  by  a  man 
who  styles  the  robber  Montreal  "  eccellente  uomo — di  quale 
fama  suono  per  tutta  la  Italia  di  virtude  "  * — (so  good  a  moral 
critic  was  the  writer!)  but  he  also  altogether  waves  all  men- 
tion of  the  probabilities  that  are  sufficiently  apparent,  of  the 
scheming  of  Pandulfo  to  supplant  Rienzi,  and  to  obtain  the 
"  Signoria  del  Popolo."  Still,  however,  if  the  death  of  Pan- 
dulfo may  be  considered  a  blot  on  the  memory  of  Rienzi,  it 
does  not  appear  that  it  was  this  which  led  to  his  own  fate. 
The  cry  of  the  mob  surrounding  his  palace  was  not,  "  Perish 
him  who  executed  Pandulfo,"  it  was — and  this  again  and 
again  must  be  carefully  noted — it  was  nothing  more  nor  less 
than  "  Perish  him  who  has  made  the  gabelle!  " 

Gibbon  sneers  at  the  military  skill  and  courage  of  Rienzi. 
For  this  sneer  there  is  no  cause.  His  first  attempts,  his  first 
rise,  attested  sufficiently  his  daring  and  brave  spirit;  in  every 
danger  he  was  present — never  shrinking  from  a  foe  so  long  as 
he  was  supported  by  the  People.  He  distinguished  himself  at 
Viterbo  when  in  the  camp  of  Albornoz,  in  several  feats  of 
arms,t  and  his  end  was  that  of  a  hero.  So  much  for  his 
courage;  as  to  his  military  skill,  it  would  be  excusable 
enough  if  Rienzi — the  eloquent  and  gifted  student,  called  from 
the  closet  and  the  rostrum  to  assume  the  command  of  an 
army — should  have  been  deficient  in  the  art  of  war;  yet,  some- 
how or  other,  .upon  the  whole,  his  arms  prospered.  He  de- 
feated the  chivalry  of  Rome  at  her  gates;  and  if  he  did  not, 
after  his  victory,  march  to  Marino,  for  which  his  biographer  $ 
and  Gibbon  blame  him,  the  reason  is  sufficiently  clear — 
"  Volea  pecunia  per  soldati " — he  wanted  money  for  the 
soldiers!  On  his  return  as  Senator,  it  must  be  remembered 
that  he  had  to  besiege  Palestrina,  which  was  considered  even 
by  the  ancient  Romans  almost  impregnable  by  position;  but 
during  the  few  weeks  he  was  in  power,  Palestrina  yielded — all 
his  open  enemies  were  defeated — the  tyrants  expelled — Rome 
free;  and  this  without  support  from  any  party,  Papal  or  Pop- 


* "  An  excellent  man  whose  fame  for  valour  resounded 
throughout  all  Italy." 

t  Vit.  di  Col.  di  Rienzi,  lib.  ii.  cap.  14. 

t  In  this  the  anonymous  writer  compares  him  gravely  to 
Hannibal,  who  knew  how  to  conquer,  but  not  how  to  use  his 
Conquest. 


APPENDIX    I  629 

ular;   or,  as   Gibbon  well   expresses   it,   "  suspected  by   the 
People — abandoned  by  the  Prince." 

On  regarding  what  Rienzi  did,  we  must  look  to  his  means, 
to  the  difficulties  that  surrounded  him,  to  the  scantiness  of  his 
resources.  We  see  a  man  without  rank,  wealth,  or  friends, 
raising  himself  to  the  head  of  a  popular  government  in  the 
metropolis  of  the  Church — in  the  City  of  the  Empire.  We 
see  him  reject  any  title  save  that  of  a  popular  magistrate — 
establish  at  one  stroke  a  free  constitution — a  new  code  of  law. 
We  see  him  first  expel,  then  subdue,  the  fiercest  aristocracy 
in  Europe — conquer  the  most  stubborn  banditti,  rule  im- 
partially the  most  turbulent  people,  embruted  by  the  violence, 
and  sunk  in  the  corruption  of  centuries.  We  see  him  restore 
trade — establish  order — create  civilisation  as  by  a  miracle — 
receive  from  crowned  heads  homage  and  congratulation — 
outwit,  conciliate,  or  awe,  the  wiliest  priesthood  of  the  Papal 
Diplomacy — and  raise  his  native  city  at  once  to  sudden  yet 
acknowledged  eminence  over  every  other  state,  its  superior 
in  arts,  wealth,  and  civilisation; — we  ask  what  errors  we  are 
to  weigh  in  the  opposite  balance,  and  we  find  an  unneces- 
sary ostentation,  a  fanatical  extravagance,  and  a  certain  in- 
solent sternness.  But  what  are  such  offences — what  the 
splendour  of  a  banquet,  or  the  ceremony  of  Knighthood, 
or  a  few  arrogant  words,  compared  with  the  vices  of 
almost  every  prince  who  was  his  contemporary?  This  is 
the  way  to  judge  character;  we  must  compare  men  with 
men,  and  not  with  ideals  of  what  men  should  be.  We  look 
to  the  amazing  benefits  Rienzi  conferred  upon  his  coun- 
try. We  ask  his  means,  and  see  but  his  own  abilities.  His 
treasury  becomes  impoverished — his  enemies  revolt — the 
Church  takes  advantage  of  his  weakness — he  is  excommuni- 
cated— the  soldiers  refuse  to  fight — the  People  refuse  to  assist 
— the  Barons  ravage  the  country — the  ways  are  closed,  the 
provisions  are  cut  off  from  Rome.*  A  handful  of  banditti 
enter  the  city — Rienzi  proposes  to  resist  them — the  People 
desert — he  abdicates.  Rapine,  Famine,  Massacre,  ensue — 
they  who  deserted,  regret,  repent — yet  he  is  still  unassisted, 
alone — now  an  exile,  now  a  prisoner,  his  own  genius  saves 
him  from  every  peril,  and  restores  him  to  greatness.  He 

*  "  Allora  le  strade  furo  chiuse,  li  massari  de  la  terre  non 
portavano  grano,  ogni  die  nasceva  nuovo  rumores." — Vit.  di 
Col.  Rienzi,  lib.  i.  cap.  37. 


630  APPENDIX   I 

returns,  the  Pope's  Legate  refuses  him  arms — the  People  re- 
fuse him  money.  He  re-establishes  law  and  order,  expels 
the  tyrants,  renounces  his  former  faults  * — is  prudent,  wary, 
provident — reigns  a  few  weeks — taxes  the  People,  in  support 
of  the  People,  and  is  torn  to  pieces!  One  day  of  the  rule 
that  followed  is  sufficient  to  vindicate  his  reign  and  avenge 
his  memory — and  for  centuries  afterwards,  whenever  that 
wretched  and  degenerate  populace  dreamed  of  glory  or  sighed 
for  justice,  they  recalled  the  bright  vision  of  their  own  vic- 
tim, and  deplored  the  fate  of  Cola  di  Rienzi.  That  he  was 
not  a  tyrant  is  clear  in  this — when  he  was  dead,  he  was  bit- 
terly regretted.  The  People  never  regret  a  tyrant!  From 
the  unpopularity  that  springs  from  other  faults  there  is  often 
a  reaction;  but  there  is  no  reaction  in  the  populace  towards 
their  betrayer  or  oppressor.  A  thousand  biographies  cannot 

*  This,  the  second  period  of  his  power,  has  been  repre- 
sented by  Gibbon  and  others  as  that  of  his  principal  faults, 
and  he  is  evidently  at  this  time  no  favourite  with  his  contem- 
poraneous biographer;  but  looking  to  what  he  did,  we  find 
amazing  dexterity,  prudence,  and  energy  in  the  most  difficult 
crisis,  and  none  of  his  earlier  faults.  It  is  true,  that  he  does 
not  shew  the  same  brilliant  extravagance  which,  I  suspect, 
dazzled  his  contemporaries,  more  than  his  sounder  qualities; 
but  we  find  that  in  a  few  weeks  he  had  conquered  all  his  pow- 
erful enemies — that  his  eloquence  was  as  great  as  ever — his 
promptitude  greater — his  diligence  indefatigable — his  fore- 
sight unslumbering.  "  He  alone,"  says  the  biographer,  "  car- 
ried on  the  affairs  of  Rome,  but  his  officials  were  slothful 
and  cold."  This  too,  tortured  by  a  painful  disease — already — 
though  yet  young — broken  and  infirm.  The  only  charges 
against  him,  as  Senator,  were  the  deaths  of  Montreal  and 
Pandulfo  di  Guido,  the  impositibn  of  the  gabelle,  and  the 
renunciation  of  his  former  habits  of  rigid  abstinence,  for  in- 
dulgence in  wine  and  feasting.  Of  the  first  charges,  the 
reader  has  already  been  enabled  to  form  a  judgment.  To  the 
last,  alas!  the  reader  must  extend  indulgence,  and  for  it  he 
may  find  excuse.  We  must  compassionate  even  more  than 
condemn  the  man  to  whom  excitement  has  become  nature, 
and  who  resorts  to  the  physical  stimulus  or  the  momentary 
Lethe,  when  the  mental  exhilarations  of  hope,  youth,  and 
glory,  begin  to  desert  him.  His  alleged  intemperance,  how- 
ever, which  the  Romans  (a  peculiarly  sober  people)  might 
perhaps  exaggerate,  and  for  which  he  gave  the  excuse  of  a 
thirst  produced  by  disease  contracted  in  the  dungeon  of 
Avignon — evidently  and  confessedly  did  not  in  the  least  di- 
minish his  attention  to  business,  which,  according  to  his  biog- 
rapher, was  at  that  time  greater  than  ever. 


APPENDIX    II  631 

decide  upon  the  faults  or  merits  of  a  ruler  like  the  one  fact, 
whether  he  is  beloved  or  hated  ten  years  after  he  is  dead. 
But  if  the  ruler  has  been  murdered  by  the  People,  and  is  then 
regretted  by  them,  their  repentance  is  his  acquittal. 

I  have  said  that  the  moral  of  the  Tribune's  life,  and  of  this 
fiction,  is  not  the  stale  and  unprofitable  moral  that  warns  the 
ambition  of  an  individual: — More  vast,  more  solemn,  and 
more  useful,  it  addresses  itself  to  nations.  If  I  judge  not 
erringly,  it  proclaims  that,  to  be  great  and  free,  a  People  must 
trust  not  to  individuals  but  themselves— that  there  is  no  sud- 
den leap  from  servitude  to  liberty — that  it  is  to  institutions, 
not  to  men,  that  they  must  look  for  reforms  that  last  beyond 
the  hour — that  their  own  passions  are  the  real  despots  they 
should  subdue,  their  own  reason  the  true  regenerator  of 
abuses.  With  a  calm  and  noble  people,  the  individual  am- 
bition of  a  citizen  can  never  effect  evil: — to  be  impatient  of 
chains  is  not  to  be  worthy  of  freedom — to  murder  a  magis- 
trate is  not  to  ameliorate  the  laws.*  The  People  write  their 
own  condemnation  whenever  they  use  characters  of  blood; 
and  theirs  alone  the  madness  and  the  crime,  if  they  crown 
a  tyrant  or  butcher  a  victim. 


APPENDIX   II 

A  WORD  UPON  THE  WORK  BY  PERE  DU  CER- 
CEAU  AND  PERE  BRUMOY,  ENTITLED  "  CON- 
JURATION DE  NICOLAS  GABRINI,  DIT  DE 
RIENZI,  TYRAN  DE  ROME" 

Shortly  after  the  romance  of  "  Rienzi  "  first  appeared,  a 
translation  of  the  biography  compiled  by  Cerceau  and  Bru- 
moy  was  published  by  Mr.  Whittaker.  The  translator,  in  a 
short  and  courteous  advertisement,  observes,  "  That  it  has 

*  Rienzi  was  murdered  because  the  Romans  had  been  in 
the  habit  of  murdering  whenever  they  were  displeased.  They 
had,  very  shortly  before,  stoned  one  magistrate,  and  torn  to 
pieces  another.  By  the  same  causes  and  the  same  career  a 
People  may  be  made  to  resemble  the  bravo  whose  hand 
wanders  to  his  knife  at  the  smallest  affront,  and  if  to-day  he 
poniards  the  enemy  who  assaults  him,  to-morrow  he  strikes 
the  friend  who  would  restrain. 


632  APPENDIX    II 

always  been  considered  as  a  work  of  authority;  and  even  Gib- 
bon appears  to  have  relied  on  it  without  further  research;  "  * 

that,  "  as  a  record  of  facts,  therefore,  the  work  will, 

it  is  presumed,  be  acceptable  to  the  public."  The  translator 
has  fulfilled  his  duty  with  accuracy,  elegance,  and  spirit, — 
and  he  must  forgive  me,  if,  in  justice  to  History  and  Rienzi, 
I  point  out  a  very  few  from  amongst  a  great  many  reasons, 
why  the  joint  labour  of  the  two  worthy  Jesuits  cannot  be  con- 
sidered either  a  work  of  authority,  or  a  record  of  facts.  The 
translator  observes  in  his  preface,  "  that  the  general  outline 
(of  Du  Cerceau's  work)  was  probably  furnished  by  an  Italian 
life  written  by  a  contemporary  of  Rienzi."  The  fact,  how- 
ever, is,  that  Du  Cerceau's  book  is  little  more  than  a  wretched 
paraphrase  of  that  very  Italian  life  mentioned  by  the  trans- 
lator,— full  of  blunders,  from  ignorance  of  the  peculiar  and 
antiquated  dialect  in  which  the  original  is  written,  and  of 
assumptions  by  the  Jesuit  -himself,  which  rest  upon  no  au- 
thority whatever.  I  will  first  shew,  in  support  of  this  asser- 
tion, what  the  Italians  themselves  think  of  the  work  of 
Fathers  Brumoy  and  Du  Cerceau.  The  Signer  Zefirino  Re, 
who  has  proved  himself  singularly  and  minutely  acquainted 
with  the  history  of  that  time,  and  whose  notes  to  the  "  Life 
of  Rienzi  "  are  characterised  by  acknowledged  acuteness  and 
research,  thus  describes  the  manner  in  which  the  two  Jesuits 
compounded  this  valuable  "  record  of  facts." 

"  Father  Du  Cerceau  for  his  work  made  use  of  a  French 
translation  of  the  life  by  the  Italian  contemporary  printed  in 
Bracciano,  1624,  executed  by  Father  Sanadon,  another  Jesuit, 
from  whom  he  received  the  MS.  This  proves  that  Du 
Cerceau  knew  little  of  our  '  volgar  lingua '  of  the  fourteenth 
century.  But  the  errors  into  which  he  has  run  shew,  that 
even  that  little  was  unknown  to  his  guide,  and  still  less  to 
Father  Brumoy,  (however  learned  and  reputed  the  latter 
might  be  in  French  literature)  who,  after  the  death  of  Du 
Cerceau,  supplied  the  deficiencies  in  the  first  pages  of  the 
author's  MS.,  which  were,  I  know  not  how,  lost;  and  in  this 
part  are  found  the  more  striking  errors  in  the  work,  which 
shall  be  noticed  in  the  proper  place;  in  the  meantime,  one 
specimen  will  suffice.  In  the  third  chapter,  book  i.,  Cola, 
addressing  the  Romans,  says.  '  Che  lo  giubileo  si  approssima, 
che  se  la  gente,  la  quale  verra  al  giubileo,  li  trova  sproveduti 

*  Here,  however,  he  does  injustice  to  Gibbon. 


APPENDIX    II  633 

di  annona,  le  pietre  (per  metatesi  sta  scritto  le  preite)  no 
porteranno  da  Roma  per  rabbia  di  fame,  e  le  pietre  non 
basteranno  a  tanta  moltitudine.  II  francese  traduce.  Le 
jubile  approche,  et  vous  n'avez  ni  provisions,  ni  vivres;  les 
etrangers  ....  trouveront  votre  ville  denue  de  tout.  Ne 
comptez  point  sur  les  secours  des  gens  d'Eglise;  ils  sortiront 
de  la  ville,  s'ils  n'y  trouvent  de  quoi  subsister:  et  d'ailleurs 
pourroient-ils  suffire  a  la  multitude  innombrable  qui  se 
trouvera  dans  vos  murs?'"*  "  Buon  Dio!"  exclaims  the 
learned  Zefirino,  "  Buon  Dio!  le  pietre  prese  per  tanta  gente 
di  chiesa!  "t 

Another  blunder  little  less  extraordinary  occurs  in  Chap- 
ter vi.,  in  which  the  ordinances  of  Rienzi's  Buono  Stato  are 
recited. 

It  is  set  forth  as  the  third  ordinance: — "  Che  nulla  casa  di 
Roma  sia  data  per  terra  per  alcuna  cagione,  ma  vada  in  com- 
mune; "  which  simply  means,  that  the  houses  of  delinquents 
should  in  no  instance  be  razed,  but  added  to  the  community 
or  confiscated.  This  law  being  intended  partly  to  meet  the 
barbarous  violences  with  which  the  excesses  and  quarrels  of 
the  Barons  had  half  dismantled  Rome,  and  principally  to 
repeal  some  old  penal  laws  by  which  the  houses  of  a  certain 
class  of  offenders  might  be  destroyed;  but  the  French  trans- 
lator construes  it,  "  Que  nulle  maison  de  Rome  ne  saroit  donnee 
en  propre,  pour  quelque  raison  que  ce  put  etre;  mais  que  les 
revenus  en  appartiendroient  au  public!  "$ 

But  enough  of  the  blunders  arising  from  ignorance. — I 
must  now  be  permitted  to  set  before  the  reader  a  few  of  the 
graver  offences  of  wilful  assumption  and  preposterous  in- 
vention. 

When  Rienzi  condemned  some  of  the  Barons  to  death,  the 
Pere  thus  writes;  I  take  the  recent  translation  published  by 
Mr.  Whittaker:— 

"  The  next  day  the  Tribune,  resolving  more  than  ever  to 
rid  himself  of  his  prisoners,  ordered  tapestries  of  two  colours, 

*  The  English  translator  could  not  fail  to  adopt  the  French- 
man's ludicrous  mistake. 

t  See  Preface  to  Zefirino  Re's  edition  of  the  "  Life  of 
Rienzi,"  p.  9,  note  on  Du  Cerceau. 

t  The  English  translator  makes  this  law  unintelligible: — 
"  That  no  family  of  Rome  shall  appropriate  to  their  own  use 
what  they  think  fit.  but  that  the  revenues  shall  appertain  to 
the  public."  !  !  ! — The  revenues  of  what? 


634  APPENDIX   II 

red  and  white,  to  be  laid  over  the  place  whereon  he  held 
his  councils,  and  which  he  had  made  choice  of  to  be  the 
theatre  of  this  bloody  tragedy,  as  the  extraordinary  tapestry 
seemed  to  declare.  He  afterwards  sent  a  cordelier  to  every 
one  of  the  prisoners  to  administer  the  sacraments,  and  then 
ordered  the  Capitol  bell  to  be  tolled.  At  that  fatal  sound  and 
the  sight  of  the  confessors,  the  Lords  no  longer  doubted  of 
sentence  of  death  being  passed  upon  them.  They  all  con- 
fessed except  the  old  Colonna,  and  many  received  the  com- 
munion. In  the  meanwhile  the  people,  naturally  prompt  to 
attend,  when  their  first  impetuosity  had  time  to  calm,  could  not 
•without  pity  behold  the  dismal  preparations  which  were  making. 
The  sight  of  the  bloody  colour  in  the  tapestry  shocked  them.  On 
this  first  impression  they  joined  in  opinion  in  relation  to  so 
many  illustrious  heads  now  going  to  be  sacrificed,  and 
lamented  more  their  unhappy  catastrophe,  as  no  crime  had 
been  proved  upon  them  to  render  them  worthy  of  such  bar- 
barous treatment.  Above  all,  the  unfortunate  Stephen  Colonna, 
whose  birth,  age,  and  affable  behaviour,  commanded  respect,  ex- 
cited a  particular  compassion.  An  universal  silence  and  sorrow 
reigned  among  them.  Those  who  were  nearest  Rienzi  discov- 
ered an  alteration.  They  took  the  opportunity  of  imploring 
his  mercy  towards  the  prisoners  in  terms  the  most  affecting 
and  moving." 

Will  it  be  believed,  that  in  the  original  from  which  the 
Pere  Du  Cerceau  borrows  or  rather  imagines  this  touching 
recital,  there  is  not  a  single  syllable  about  the  pity  of  the  people, 
nor  their  shock  at  the  bloody  colours  of  the  tapestry,  nor  their 
particular  compassion  for  the  unfortunate  Stephen  Colonna! 
— in  fine,  the  People  are  not  even  mentioned  at  all.  All  that 
is  said  is  "  Some  Roman  citizens,  (alcuni  cittadini  Romani), 
considering  the  judgment  Rienzi  was  about  to  make,  inter- 
posed with  soft  and  caressing  words,  and  at  last  changed  the 
opinion  of  the  Tribune;  "  all  the  rest  is  the  pure  fiction  of 
the  ingenious  Frenchman!  Again,  Du  Cerceau,  describing 
the  appearance  of  the  Barons  at  this  fatal  moment,  says, 
"  Notwithstanding  the  grief  and  despair  visible  in  their 
countenances,  they  showed  a  noble  indignation,  generally  at- 
tendant on  innocence  in  the  hour  of  death."  What  says  the 
authority  from  which  alone,  except  his  own,  the  good  Father 
could  take  his  account?  Why,  not  a  word  about  this  noble 
indignation,  or  this  parade  of  innocence!  The  original  says 
simply,  that  "  the  Barons  were  so  frozen  with  terror  that  they 


APPENDIX    II  635 

were  unable  to  speak,"  (diventaso  si  gelati  che  non  poteano 
favellare;)  "that  the  greater  part  humbled  themselves,"  (e 
prese  penitenza  e  comunione;)  that  when  Rienzi  addressed 
them,  "  all  the  Barons  (come  dannati)  stood  in  sadness."  * 
Du  Cerceau  then  proceeds  to  state,  that  "  although  he 
(Rienzi)  was  grieved  at  heart  to  behold  his  victims  snatched 
from  him,  he  endeavoured  to  make  a  merit  of  it  in  the  eyes 
of  the  People."  There  is  not  a  word  of  this  in  the  original! 

So,  when  Rienzi,  on  a  later  occasion,  placed  the  Prefect 
John  di  Vico  in  prison,  this  Jesuit  says,  "  To  put  a  gloss  upon 
this  action  before  the  eyes  of  the  people,  Rienzi  gave  out  that 
the  Governor,  John  di  Vico,  keeping  a  correspondence  with 
the  conspirators,  came  with  no  other  view  than  to  betray  the 
Romans."  And  if  this  scribbler,  who  pretends  to  have  con- 
sulted the  Vatican  MSS.,  had  looked  at  the  most  ordinary 
authorities,  he  would  have  seen  that  John  di  Vico  did  come 
with  that  view.  (See  for  Di  Vice's  secret  correspondence 
with  the  Barons,  La  Cron.  Bologn.  p.  406;  and  La  Cron. 
Est.  p.  444.) 

Again,  in  the  battle  between  the  Barons  and  the  Romans 
at  the  gates,  Du  Cerceau  thus  describes  the  conduct  of  the 
Tribune: — "  The  Tribune,  amidst  his  troops,  knew  so  little  of 
what  had  passed,  that  seeing  at  a  distance  one  of  his  standards 
fall,  he  looked  upon  all  as  lost,  and,  casting  up  his  eyes  to 
heaven  full  of  despair,  cried  out,  '  O  God,  will  you  then  for- 
sake me?  '  But  no  sooner  was  he  informed  of  the  entire 
defeat  of  his  enemies,  than  his  dread  and  cowardice  even 
turned  to  boldness  and  arrogance." 

Now  in  the  original  all  that  is  said  of  this  is,  "  That  it  is 
true  that  the  standard  of  the  Tribune  fell — the  Tribune  as- 
tonished, (or  if  you  please,  dismayed,  sbigottio,)  stood  with  his 
eyes  raised  to  heaven,  and  could  find  no  other  words  than, 
'O  God  hast  thou  betrayed  me?''  This  evinced,  perhaps, 
alarm  or  consternation  at  the  fall  of  his  standard — a  con- 
sternation natural,  not  to  a  coward,  but  a  fanatic,  at  such  an 
event.  But  not  a  word  is  said  about  Rienzi's  cowardice  in 
the  action  itself;  it  is  not  stated  when  the  accident  happened — 
nothing  bears  out  the  implication  that  the  Tribune  was  re- 
mote from  the  contest,  and  knew  little  of  what  passed.  And 
if  this  ignorant  Frenchman  had  consulted  any  other  contem- 
poraneous historian  whatever,  he  would  have  found  it  asserted 

*  See  Vita  di  Col.  di  Rienzi,  lib.  i.  cap.  29. 


636  APPENDIX    II 

by  them  all,  that  the  fight  was  conducted  with  great  valour, 
both  by  the  Roman  populace  and  their  leader  on  one  side, 
and  the  Barons  on  the  other. — G.  Vill.  lib.  xii.  cap.  105;  Cron. 
Sen.  torn.  xv.  Mu'rat.  p.  119;  Cron.  Est.  p.  444.  Yet  Gibbon 
rests  his  own  sarcasm  on  the  Tribune's  courage  solely  on  the 
baseless  exaggeration  of  this  Pere  Du  Cerceau. 

So  little,  indeed,  did  this  French  pretender  know  of  the 
history  of  the  time  and  place  he  treats  of,  that  he  imagines 
the  Stephen  Colonna  who  was  killed  in  the  battle  above  men- 
tioned was  the  old  Stephen  Colonna,  and  is  very  pathetic 
about  his  "  venerable  appearance,"  &c.  This  error,  with  re- 
gard to  a  man  so  eminent  as  Stephen  Colonna  the  elder,  is 
inexcusable;  for,  had  the  priest  turned  over  the  other  pages 
of  the  very  collection  in  which  he  found  the  biography  he 
deforms,  he  would  have  learned  that  old  Stephen  Colonna 
was  alive  some  time  after  that  battle. — [Cron.  Sen.  Murat. 
torn.  xv.  p.  121.  j 

Again,  just  before  Rienzi's  expulsion  from  the  office  of 
Tribune,  Du  Cerceau,  translating  in  his  headlong  way  the 
old  biographer's  account  of  the  causes  of  Rienzi's  loss  of 
popularity,  says,  "  He  shut  himself  up  in  his  palace,  and  his 
presence  was  known  only  by  the  rigorous  punishments  which 
he  caused  his  agents  to  inflict  upon  the  innocent."  Not  a 
word  of  this  in  the  original! 

Again,  after  the  expulsion,  Du  Cerceau  says,  that  the 
Barons  seized  upon  the  "  immense  riches  "  he  had  amassed, 
— the  words  in  the  original  are,  "  grandi  ornamenti,"  which 
are  very  different  things  from  immense  riches.  But  the 
most  remarkable  sins  of  commission  are  in  this  person's  ac- 
count of  the  second  rise  and  fall  of  Rienzi  under  the  title 
of  Senator.  Of  this  I  shall  give  but  one  instance: — 

"  The  Senator,  who  perceived  it,  became  only  the  more 
cruel.  His  jealousies  produced  only  fresh  murders.  In  the 
continual  dread  he  was  in,  that  the  general  discontent  would 
terminate  in  some  secret  attempt  upon  his  person,  he  de- 
termined to  intimidate  the  most  enterprising,  by  sacrificing 
sometimes  one,  sometimes  another,  and  chiefly  those  whose 
riches  rendered  them  the  more  guilty  in  his  eyes.  Numbers 
were  sent  every  day  to  the  Capitol  prison.  Happy  were  those 
who  could  get  off  with  the  confiscation  of  their  estates." 

Of  these  grave  charges  there  is  not  a  syllable  in  the  original! 
And  so  much  for  the  work  of  Pere  Cerceau  and  Pere  Bru- 
moy,  by  virtue  of  which,  historians  have  written  of  the  life 


APPENDIX    II  637 

and  times  of  Rienzi,  and  upon  the  figments  of  which,  the  most 
remarkable  man  in  an  age  crowded  with  great  characters  is 
judged  by  the  general  reader! 

I  must  be  pardoned  for  this  criticism,  which  might  not 
have  been  necessary,  had  not  the  work  to  which  it  relates, 
in  the  English  translation  quoted  from,  (a  translation  that  has 
no  faults  but  those  of  the  French  original),  been  actually 
received  as  an  historical  and  indisputable  authority,  and  op- 
posed with  a  triumphant  air  to  some  passages  in  my  own 
narrative  which  were  literally  taken  from  the  authentic 
records  of  the  time. 


THE  END 


DC  SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILITY 


A     001  002  426     3 


